


Underbloom

by LohrHunter



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, M/M, Magic, Memory Loss, Other, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 54
Words: 198,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LohrHunter/pseuds/LohrHunter
Summary: It’s been fifty six  years since they died in Sans’ arms. Fifty six years that the world has moved on without them. Fifty six years he’s tried to move on himself.But now Frisk is back and with their return a new journey begins. At first to regain their lost memories, but ultimately to escape a hunter who will do anything to obtain their soul and with it the power to turn back time.





	1. Grave of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our memories can mean so much, we’d let them tell us who we are. Yet in the simple act of remembering we cause our memories to change. Can we afford to give up on our memories? Or are they worth the risk of holding onto them? It’s hard to say, but if anything is certain is that our memories…
> 
> Are totally unreliable.

 

Soft golden rays shifting slightly as they fall from a ragged hole high up on the cave ceiling unto a thick patch of bright flowers. The small plants cover the ground mimicking the circular shape the light projects into the otherwise dark cavern. Standing over a sea of golden petals is a headstone. Worn by rain and time, the words ‘Here lies our savior, The Angel’  etched deeply into the stone. It looks as if it was meant to last forever.

That day, like many others before, the grave has a visitor. They speak softly to the grave while resting their back against it. Their bittersweet laughter echoes faintly off the walls, lost in the vastness of the cave that fades to nothing the farther it gets from the light. A scarce rain begins to fall and though unaffected by it, they take it as an excuse to end their visit, before staying past the point of nostalgia and into bitterness. They take their worn fur trim coat and swing it over their shoulder as they say yet another brief goodbye. The visitor takes a shortcut before climbing out through a long passage that once held an impassable barrier, yearning for it to imprison them again, if it meant they could talk to something other than a grave.

Hours pass slowly since the visitor left; moonlight, then daylight stream into the cave sporadically as the days countdown to their next visit. It is sometime near twilight, as the ashes of a fallen monster are swept away by the wind, when from the hole in the ceiling a red light tumbles into the flowers, blinking as it descends like a fallen star. There, beneath the dark earth, a flickering spark becomes a burning light pouring into a hollow shell, filling it with magic.

The first thing they notice is the dark. Heavy and oppressing, a weight that fills their lungs and gives no chance to breathe. They struggle in desperation, tearing into the dirt, squirming and clawing until they slowly begin to surface. After what feels like days their hand pushes up and meets no resistance; they have reached the surface.

Tearing through tendrils, of root and dried flesh that imprison them, a creature emerges from the ground to find themselves atop a pile of small flowers. It is dark now and they can barely see their pale digits in the dirt. They breathe heavily,feeling their chest lighten as it fills with relief. They look up gratefully, high above them a hole in the blackness shows a starry sky, its pattern displaced here and there by shreds of clouds. A shaky joyful cry leaves their mouth and rises wavering to the starlight.

Then it is mostly quiet again, they can discern the sound of the wind high above, of water dripping softly below; it all seems far from here. The sounds of their movements echo and die out before they go much farther. They are utterly alone here and the notion fills them with terrifying familiarity. Something in them recalls being this lost and afraid. Something in them begs to cower and disappear. They bring their hand to their mouth to muffle their uneven breaths so they can hide away from anything that might be lurking nearby.

Their hand feels numb, this is nothing new, but so does their mouth. In their panic they open their mouth and reach inside searching for a protrusion of small flowers. There is nothing but their tongue and a rotten taste, but they feel their hand clatter against their teeth and are startled by the sound. In a panic they wring their hands and feel the vibration as their fingers clatter against one another.  
  
The inexplicable sensation and sound are confusing, so they hold their hands before them squinting in the dark. The wind blows the clouds away momentarily and in the muted moonlight two skeletal hands are spread across their eyes. When the hands turn this way and that, they know, even as the light fades away, that these are their own two hands. All fear of being found forgotten, they scream in horror. It seems as if they can go on screaming forever without having to pause for breath, because they probably can. They touch their chest, hearing that faint clatter as their hands run over their ribs and collarbone before reaching their face.

Frantically they palpate the smooth curves and dips of an exposed skull. They scream again, this time feeling how their face shifts when they open their mouth. Smooth bone, clattering limbs, no skin, no breath, no heartbeat. Wrapping these arms around themselves won’t bring any comfort. They curl up then and there and dig into the dirt, trying desperately to feel as it passes through their fingers.

The soil gives away easily to the pointed ends of their fingers; giving them a faint sensation and nothing more, they can’t feel the texture, can’t tell if it is cold or warm. Feeling hopeless they lay still and stare into the dark until they can see the flowers around them appear out of the blackness one by one. When the first flower begins to appear gold, they stand, eyes avoiding their body. They look around and take in the mess of dirt and tatters they’ve left atop the flowers. Memories of the previous night send a shiver down their spine, which makes an audible clatter, barely noticeable over the birds that are greeting the day on the surface.

The tatters are shadowed by a gray headstone, that in their earlier panic didn’t even register. They walk around it, unable to read what it says and see a heart carved near the top. Shakily they run their hands over it, numbed by the ludicrous fact that they are touching their own grave. At the bottom their fingers find another carving, a circle…wings…triangles.

The memories are hazy but come forth at the touch of the rune, a heavy coat, a gruff voice and eyes. Glowing red eyes inside pits of black, monstrous at first but slowly becoming an image of warmth and comfort. Their name is hard to find in the haze of their resurging memories but somewhere alongside the word sweetheart, there is Sans. Sans the monster, Sans the skeleton, Sans the enemy and friend. They shake their head, as they are assaulted by  images of a skeleton with sharp teeth exposed in a smiling mask.  They have no time to reminisce now, they must hide; a familiar urgency fills them and they welcome it, finding comfort in the fake sense of purpose it gives them. They replace their remains and the dirt back under the flowers and prepare to leave this place.

They find a niche amongst the cracks of the cave and wait. They hope no one can see them in this gloom but they know it’s in vain; as monsters can see better than humans in the dark. It is still difficult to think of themselves as a monster too, and they catch the assumption as it passes through their mind. They wait for hours as the sun brightens to dig at their cover; once or twice they hear voices and try their best to meld into the dark. But though the voices seem to come close they never enter the cavern. There is a desolate air to the place, but not one of abandonment…there is almost a feeling of sacredness in its untouched beauty.

Only some crushed blooms and a slight trail of dirt mar the otherworldly effect. They wonder if it is enough to tell something has happened here. Many scenarios run through their anxious mind, all ending in death. They hide until the sky darkens with heavy clouds, perhaps now would be a good time as any to leave. They vaguely remember this place is deep and the way home will be a long and treacherous one. Accepting their fate, they decide to leave their hiding place keeping to the shadows around the grave.                 

But a sound breaks them out of their reverie: the thuds of feet against stone and dirt, coming closer. Someone is visiting their grave. In a moment of desperation, they contemplate hiding behind it, like a child playing badly at hide and seek. But they know that it’s pointless and back away into the shadows, trying hard not to make a sound. Yet it is not a breath or footstep that gives them away, but the tell-tale rattle of their spine as a shiver scrapes a finger along its length. They stand still, but in the eerie silence they are aware that the monster has stopped. Pinpoints of red move from the grave and in their general direction, they feel pinned under the glowing eyes. An imposing shadow pours from the cavern entrance, black upon black, stretching like spilled ink.

“Who’s there?” A gruff voice asks curtly.

They can’t bring themselves to even lie, they can’t speak. All they know is that they recognize that voice. A mixture of fear and joy fills them and they are made more acutely aware of the fact breathing is not necessary anymore. They want to be out of breath, but their body doesn’t demand it as their memory does. So they stumble back, trying to be swallowed by the shadows, to run away and not towards the source of these feelings, but they stumble and fall; only to see the red lights flaring to life before them.

A fizzle of electricity in the air and streaming red projectiles fly overhead with a warped sound. They dodge by reflex, moving faster than they recall ever moving and rolling to the side. They scurry past the flickering light upon the flowers and back into shadow. Ironically the nearest cover was the grave, and so, like the fallen child they once were, they wait behind the stone, for either their own voice or this living memory to find them.

“What the hell are ya doing here...Whadda you want?!”

The voice is furious and frightening, a deep gravelly bass made loud by rage and the echoes of the cave. Even in their panic the indelible joy flutters somewhere in their ribcage and they call out in a hoarse shout.   

“Sans?....SANS!? I’m...p-please remember me!” They stumble on that last part feeling absurd.  

Silence. Not a word as the crackle of magic dissipates leaving only the wind passing overhead, whistling strangely. The steps move closer and they hold their hands to their chest that heaves in a reflex of fear. They close their eyes as the steps stop right before the grave. They hear knees hitting the dirt, a sharp rap against stone made weak by a rattle of bone; once, twice…it is underlined by an inappropriately toneless voice.                                                       

“Knock, knock”

  _I know this game…._

 “W-Who’s there?”

 “Ahab”

  _I remember this …_

 “Ahab who?”   

 “Ahab missed you…sweetheart.”  

  _I remember you…_

 

 

It is then that Frisk opens their eyes.

  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05/21/17 Hey there, thank you for reading, just editing because the story summary is now this chapter's summary. This is my first published story and I'm determined to finish. It starts slow but picks up speed fast, you can expect loads of angst, fluff, action and eventually comedy. I hope character development, mystery and many intertwined plots are your thing because this story has twists and turns for days. I hope to see you on the next ones!


	2. How memories travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and the newly awakened Frisk make their way through the Underground...but things are very different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author just realized she forgot to put a language warning as she posted this chapter...oh well. Language warning for all the cussing that pretty much goes on through the whole fanfic.

Sans stands before them and he is everything Frisk remembers but not quite. His mouth set in a grimace caught between anguish and joy, his eyes are glowing brighter now, molten yellow and red. He stops, sockets widened in confusion as the light fades from his eyes. The pinpoints that are left behind scurry avidly to take in their body huddled behind the stone. Frisk wrings their hands close to their chest, curling into themselves. Sans’ jacket drops from his limp hand as he kneels slowly.

“...Frisk? Is that you?” Sans sounds nearly as lost as the creature he is trying to approach. “You…? What happened?” 

“I…I don’t know….I don’t know what…”

The weight of the past night is pressing down into their head, like a drill reaching for their center. His face in front of them is blurry, they don’t blink because they don’t want to cry in front of him, so they wait for him to act instead. They want to lay down under the weight of it all and not have to face the fact they can’t change what happened. It’s a dance with futility again and they hate it.  
A firm touch, his bony hand on their shoulder, the bones clattering against each other. Frisk crumbles, glowing tears stream down their face as they lean into him. Not having to pause for breath, their keening cries go uninterrupted for a long time. Though he is trembling as much as they are, he refuses to let go. The fears are chased away for the moment and they find comfort in the hope he understands. They have been through things like this before and they survived. It would be alright. So the tears stop and the words begin. 

“…I don’t remember what happened...what happened to me...I woke up. It was dark and the dirt was...crushing me and I-I climbed out…because I thought… I thought I’d die if I stayed in there…” They pull back and sit on their knees, catching glimpses of his face.  
Sans’ head turns slightly towards the grave beside them, rubbing his eye sockets roughly before seeing the disturbed earth and broken flowers left behind. The hastily covered hole from which they crawled is much too obvious to him.

“Do ya remember how…w-what happened before that?” 

Frisk covers their eyes with their hands and struggles to remember; so much of their memories are not images, but conversations, feelings, sounds. It is difficult to tell which of these juxtaposed images are real and which are something else altogether.   
In their mind Sans holds out a hand to them in the woods, then the woods are streaked with flashing lights and bones, blood sloshing on the snow. Red fire behind a bar, a bottle of mustard now a bottle of ketchup, blood and ice on their fingers.   
A glowing red heart that becomes a gold locket in their hands, the locket opens and now it’s a flower, small and just as golden, buried into their palm that grows into Flowey…smiling wide and sweet but then…his face is melting, eyes pouring black. 

The face bloats grotesquely until it tears as small yellow flowers pour from inside, growing into their hands, thin stalks pushing through their skin, covering it until nothing is left behind. The plants climb rapidly along their forearms, they rip at the flowers but the pain is unbearable and more appear immediately underneath… they quickly sprout over their eyes and they scream, but the sound is cut off with the petals blossoming from their throat and spilling from their mouth…they are suffocated by golden flowers…

“I remember these flowers…” They pick at some of the golden flowers at their feet. “ They were growing on me…. I was trying to run away...and there were monsters chasing me...I remember you.……You helped me…”

“I…yeah that’s right. Do you remember anythin’…else?” he sweats profusely, his plastered-on grin struggling against the weight of his guilt.

“Um, I’m not sure…I keep seeing these things but…I...don’t know if they’re real...I don’t feel good...” 

“Do you remember what happened...at the end? Do you remember when-when we made it to the barrier?”

Now it is Frisk’s turn to frown, it is difficult to recall, though the word ‘barrier’ rings with significance. Some vague images come back slowly, amongst them the driving urge to reach the surface. Though the memory is not entirely clear they remember few sounds and sensations.

…warmth falling on their face…

…Sans’ trembling voice fading slowly….

Their mouth moving until no sound came out…

Blinding light of every color, yet none all at once….then oppressive, endless dark. 

“...Did I die?” they ask, almost rhetorically. 

Silence. Still dazed Frisk looks up from Sans’ feet and sees the turmoil written on his face, the tension that shadows it as he too tries to understand what is happening. 

“Not sure what happened to you, to be honest…just…”Sans deflects letting out a single humorless laugh before looking away. “…Let’s just get outta here…”

Frisk untangles their limbs and stands, expecting a dizziness that never comes. Sans glances at them before his eyes dart down and a bit of color appears on his cheekbones. He coughs and picks up his coat, eyes anywhere but on Frisk. 

“Uh…you might wanna put this on…yer kinda naked…”

Frisk covers up, looking down at their body that is now just slim bone covered in dirt and tatters. The sight is sickening and they look away to avoid feeling that terror again. Their hands fumble on the zipper for half a minute before Sans takes it from them and pulls it up in one swift movement. They get a whiff of musk and a slight tinge of mustard on, though they can barely catch the scent, it is still comforting. Sans turns around suddenly, startling them.

“Wait…gotta do somethin’ bout this.” Sans points to the grave with his chin. In the growing light it becomes very obvious that the grave was disturbed. He extends a hand that begins to glow red, its light spreads on the dirt and flowers like spilled blood. Frisk shivers slightly at the disturbing image; but also at the dreadful suspicion that this light may have turned on them once. 

The dirt convulses below the flowers with a rolling grumble and the underlying crackle of magic. Once the dirt is settled the thick patches of yellow flowers cover most traces of their passing. Sans turns to them, noting the way their eyes focus on his glowing hands, he shuts off his magic and sticks them in his pockets casually. After walking in silence for a while he mumbles at them over his shoulder.

“Hey…Things got more crowded since you…were gone. So we can walk up to the ruins but then we’ll have to take a shortcut. One of my shortcuts.” Sans wiggles his fingers at them lazily. 

Frisk tenses at the word ’shortcut’ as a memory of unpleasant stomach churning warns them not to take his hand and from then on, they eye Sans’ default toothy grin suspiciously. 

“Why? Um, why is it so crowded?” they ask, voice croaky.

“Since you broke the barrier monsters can come out, but people can come in….things are different now.” Frisk decides to keep firing questions as they walk, just to give their mind something other than scrambled memories to chase after. 

“Different good or different bad?” 

“Both I guess.” Sans pauses to let them catch up before continuing. “The monsters that stayed down here are cashing in on all the tourists. The humans are mostly just sightseeing and shit.”

“Do they...get along?”

“Nah not really. There’s laws ‘bout that, so we can’t actually fight...But not all the humans liked it when they found out monsters were real. Same with monsters, some just can’t stand humans, no matter how they treat us.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“ It ain’t perfect but it’s the best we got right now.”Sans shrugs it off.

Farther ahead he looks around a corner, waves at Frisk to come closer and signals them to be quiet. From further off into the ruins echoes of voices fade in and out. 

“There’s someone up ahead”his eyes wander over them for a moment. “You might wanna cover your face, just in case.”

Frisk nods and reaches back, their hand stops before their eyes, a sickly sweet musk reaches them briefly, it smells like their grave. Noticing their hesitation, Sans gingerly pulls the hood over their head, the exchange a tense set of smiles before continuing. In the brighter lit areas it finally becomes apparent to Frisk that for some reason they can’t really see out of their right eye. But before they can figure out why they bump against Sans’ hard frame.

“My bad, come ’ere…Stay close.” 

Sans is herding them away from a pair of bird like monsters that squawk merrily at each other. Frisk lowers their head to hide their face, their memories stirring from the hand that presses against their back urging them forward. The bird monsters stop their conversation and pause to look at them, for a tense moment Frisk thinks they’ve noticed something is off and try hard not to bolt.

“Oi, oi, dude! Don’t you know how to treat a lady?!” Says a monster that resembles a crane, hobbling by with a blue winged monster leaning on them heavily. 

“Nah man, if they be having a romp on the flowers that ain’t a lady no more! Hahaha!”

“No man seriously you should at least try to look….decent.” The crane monster points a wing at them, swaying with their friend that just nods and throws back his bottle, spilling half the contents off the side of his mouth. Frisk sighs in relief, they are both completely drunk. 

“ 'S none of yer business, pal, keep it moving.” Sans replies as they pass by. 

“Sheesh…so much for manners.” The crane shakes its head atop his spindly neck and moves on, laughing with his friend. 

Sans follows them with his eyes until they walk out of sight. They don’t meet anyone else for quite a while, and most monsters stay away from Sans who just glares at anyone who comes their way. Frisk notices that despite being rude, all the monsters they encounter don’t seem violent at all. The ruins, though structurally sound, are clearly no longer the monsters’ home. Eventually a distant buzz grows louder as they progress and it becomes clear they are approaching heavily crowded area.

“Yer gonna need to stay close from now on; walk fast and don’t stop no matter what, yeah?”

Despite their uncertainty Frisk nods when Sans catches their eye. He frowns before putting an arm over their shoulders, clumsily pulling them closer before they walk on. Frisk is jittery, not knowing what to expect, they walk fast pulling the hood lower, until they can only see a few feet ahead, letting Sans guide them through a narrow hallway and into an explosion of smells and sounds. 

Unable to help it Frisk looks up, holding the neck of the jacket over their mouth. A multitude of stalls line a wide, tiled road, filling the chamber with products of every kind. Even with a dull sense of smell, Frisk can perceive many foods and spices, perfumes and oils. They open their mouth subconsciously and the smells become clearer. It smells like popcorn, honey, meats and fruits; savory and sweet. There is a cacophony of music and of monsters shouting about their wares. Only once before had they been somewhere so crowded: it was an amusement park. Though it doesn’t compare, they think surprised at the variety of monsters, to this picture straight out of a fairytale. 

Even more surprising are the humans that wander the streets and eye the wares. Though this place is obviously very out of the way for surface dwellers, many wander around, hands full of shopping bags and food. The environment is not exactly friendly, monsters and humans alike smoke and drink in the stalls, customers and merchants haggle with one another in heated voices, some monsters catcall at passerby and many eyes follow them suspiciously; but it is amazing nonetheless. 

When they exit into another passageway, Frisk regrets leaving the chamber behind, only to quickly find themselves in another, just as crowded and colorful as the one they left behind. This one seems cleaner and the products of less questionable nature. He leads them past the stalls into a deserted alley, it reminds Frisk of a crack on the floor with the way it keeps becoming narrower as it zigzags between buildings and walls. When the walls close in on them, barely a foot on each side, Sans turns around, the hands he used to lead them here are extended between them as if in offering. Frisk looks at Sans’ face, at his hands and back again with hesitation. 

“Kay, imma need your hand. Time to take a shortcut.”

Frisk reaches out but doesn’t take ahold of his hands, an unsettling memory making them suspicious. He looks at them quizzically before a look of guilt passes over his face and he frowns looks at the floor, downcast. 

“Where are we going?” they ask gently.

“To Waterfall. We can keep going for a while on foot and then we can make our way to the exit.”he says slowly, almost reassuringly. 

“Another shortcut?”

“Yeah… “ he drops his hands now, awkwardly rubbing them against his jeans as if to wipe them clean before putting them back in his pockets to stop fidgeting. 

“Ok….could you give me a minute?.” Sans nods at them offering his hands again and waits until they reach out cautiously. 

“Ready? Just close yer eyes.” 

Frisk nods once curtly before clasping his hands firmly. Sans holds their gaze and nods back before the ground lurches from beneath them and the world falls away. They feel a sharp pulling sensation at the top of their head and the bottom of their feet as if a string was threaded into their spine and they are being pulled along it at ludicrous speeds, crossing a deep blackness. They are moving fast but can’t tell if they are going up or down or sideways. Through it all Sans hands hold them firmly and before they know it the ground is back under their feet, with no impact or sign it had fallen away just a second ago. 

“We’re here... you with me?” Sans is still holding their arms, bones rattling against each other. 

Frisk shuts their eyes tighter and shakes their head to get rid of the phantom rushing sensation, supporting themselves in his arms before straightening with a weak laugh. 

“There’s...no way to get used to that... I’m ok though, thanks.”

Sans nods, sweat shining in his brow and eyes dimmed from the effort of taking them both on such a long leap. They wait until the unsavory sensation and their knees settle before taking look around. 

Pink and purple lights dance over the water, blue grass sways delicately here and there. Along the dark boardwalk dotted with crystal lanterns a few monsters and humans walk idly. The boardwalks are just as black as they remember but the marshlands of Waterfall are much brighter than in their memory. There are chest-high railings and every corner has a lantern whose light pulsates but doesn’t go out. Small birds, turtles and aquatic monsters float between lily pads. The yawning dark of the cavern has been pushed back to make room for this quaint boardwalk.

They trudge forward keeping to the least used paths. Boats pass them by sometimes, there are small docks and fishing stations, tiny food stands and ticket booths for boat rides. They feel no familiarity here, as they can no longer recognize this place and can’t help but feel curious about the only other strong memory they have. 

“Sans?...Is the snow town….is it different too?”

“Snowdin? It is…it's crowded, too crowded if ya ask me…It's still always snowing there and humans are coming all the time to ski and junk.” his mouth curls in distaste but he doesn’t sound angry. 

“Oh…is that why we skipped it?” they say haltingly, as if they were still getting used to talking. 

“Yeah…yeah it is.” his gruff tone puts an end to that conversation, and Frisk relents, not wanting to make this any more tense.

They move slowly, while Sans catches his breath and just small talk about their surroundings. With the apprehension of being caught becoming more and more unnecessary, as the uncaring monsters and humans pass them without even a glance, a tension begins to develop. Things unsaid begin to weigh on both, questions without answers and a sadness neither is willing to address. Frisk is aware that when they reach their destination Sans will have many questions, just as they are aware they may not have any answers. 

They reach another desolate area and sit on a rusty old bench, waiting for Sans to gather his magic to take them on another leap. Frisk fidgets, tracing the seams of the coat’s sleeves with their pointed fingers. They are alarmed when they see flowers tangled between their fingers and wrist. After a few experimental tugs they are relieved to only feel a sharp pang as they tug the plants free and let them fall between the planks of the bench inconspicuously.

“Kay, time to go...you ready?” Frisk startles, feeling caught and nod hastily. Sans raises a brow bone at them before resuming their journey. 

“Where are we going now?” they ask.

“To the entrance….well in this case the exit” 

He turns back to look at Frisk before repeating the gesture, waiting for them to take his hands, only this time they do it without much hesitation. They are rushing through that blackened space again and this time, though the rush is just as aggressive the descent feels slower, as if they landed gently. The first thing that hits them is not the images, but the sounds. 

They are assaulted by the cacophony of music, unintelligible announcements on speakers and the chatter of many voices both human and monster. It resembles the chaos of a crowded airport, people and belongings overlap in a reception area with a high vaulted ceiling and many lights. Though it mimics the architecture of the palace that can be seen through its open windows, with its long columns and colorful bricks; this building is definitely newer. It looks both familiar and strange to them, but they have no time to explore as Sans quickly pushes their hood lower and moves on. He pulls them close as they enter the crowd and they can feel his ribs expanding and contracting, as if breathing heavily. 

Frisk steals a glance at the sweat streaming down his face, he’s snarling, mouth opening occasionally as he breathes through it. It’s startling to see him this spent, but his tiredness must be telling of the distance traveled. They can’t remember how far this place is from the grave; all they feel certain about is the trust they feel right now for this monster, their friend. They weave through lines of people waiting for their tickets, waiting to leave, waiting to have their bags checked and suddenly a monster bumps Sans’ shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble. Frisk instinctively reaches out and holds his arm; but it is unnecessary as Sans side-steps so fast it was hard to tell he even stumbled. He now stands between Frisk and the other monster, who gives a small exclamation before breaking into a contagious, if not unsettling, laugh.

“Oi, if it isn’t the bone man himself? How’re ya doin Sans?”

“….I’m fine.”

“And so am I thank-ya for askin” The female voice has a heavy unidentifiable accent and she drawls in a friendly manner. Frisk tries to peek behind Sans but only catches a glimpse of a swishing tail.

“I didn’t ask cause I don’t wanna know. I’m busy, bye.”

“Don’t be that way! You don’t look too well, you sure you don’t need ma help?” A rounded paw pats Sans’ shoulder and he shrugs it off as he sticks one hand in his pocket and puts the other on Frisk’s back. 

“Don’t need yer help, don’t want it either. Just keep yer paws outta my business.”

“Suit yerself, I’ll be here anyways…when ya come back next month!” She sounds pleased, as they quickly move away from her.   
Sans growls and flips her off over his shoulder, Frisk is disconcerted by the exchange and steals a glance back; they can tell which one she is just by the way she looks at them both. She reminds them of a cat, if a cat was purple and could walk on two legs. She is grinning widely, showing off sharp rows of teeth and as they look on her mouth widens terribly before the crowd closes in around them. They repress a shudder and follow Sans into what they hope is the exit. 

They turn into a small dark corner, between a ticket booth and a wall. There is barely any space for a person to walk comfortably, let alone for two and then Sans places his hand on the wall on either side of their head, making them feel even smaller. 

“I need to catch my breath for a bit, before we go all the way to the surface.”

“Ok...We could walk, I don’t mind.” Frisk stares worriedly at the sweat that streams down Sans’ face, but he shakes his head. 

“There’s checkpoints on the way out, they’ll ask for an ID....They can tell you’re not 18 yet, kid.”

He gives them a devilish grin and they look away, embarrassed. When they look back Sans has closed his eyes and is bracing all his weight on the wall behind them; gradually steadying his breath. Frisk feels compelled to reach out but are too confused to follow through with any action, so instead they wait. He tosses another glance their way before grinning and nodding to show he’s well enough now. 

“It’s a short jump but…we’re gonna need to huddle up this time.” 

Frisk looks at them, confused; Sans is bent so that their faces are level and he looks at them as if gauging their reaction as his hands pull away from the wall and slowly settle on their thin shoulders. He pulls them in, slowly, and Frisk does not resist even as their face is pressed onto his collarbone. 

“Better hold on there.”

Frisk tries to wrap their arms around him, hesitating as their hands sink around his empty waistline, holding onto his shoulder blades instead. Sans nods and carefully wraps his arms around them firmly.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” 

They are pulled into the emptiness, which this time sloshes and slurs, sounds and lights peeking through disconcertingly. Frisk closes their eyes with a yelp and claws at Sans’ shirt trying to hold on, his arms tighten in return. It’s over with a brunt force at their feet that makes them stumble. Sans catches them and they straighten themselves before pulling back. That last leap was jarring and they still feel the impact running through their bones. 

“So much for sticking the landing, huh?”he grumbles.

Frisk looks at Sans, notices the dimness in his sunken eyes, the color on his cheekbones and the sweat on his face, but even their worry is put aside for a moment. They look up at the sky, their hood falling away to flood their eyes with gold light. Behind Sans, the sun is about to set, red and purple clouds painted over a deep orange sky, stars blinking in and out overhead. Somewhere past the rushing wind, birds cry out their farewell to the sinking sun. Below them a small town is sprawled, lights on the windows start to flicker on. They are in the surface at last and their vision turns liquid again as they smile at Sans; and though he looks spent, he smiles right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, this, the proper first chapter of the story. I hope you are enjoying it so far, I'm really enjoying making them. 
> 
> This is an interpretation of the Underfell and Flowerfell universes and includes direct reference to some parts of the game, it could spoil part of it. I can't wait for you all to see more of this story!
> 
> Artwork will be added this week so, hope you stick around!


	3. Pretense of calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans takes a confused Frisk to his home, before they can start to come to terms with what happened to them...and to him.

Sans walks alongside Frisk for a while until they reach the crest of the steep hill, it rolls down into a narrow dirt path that unravels down the smaller peaks dotting the back of Mt. Ebbot. Under a bare and thick tree, is a black motorcycle and he leads Frisk to it nonchalantly, reluctant to address the obvious until they both stand before it silently. 

“Welp, your carriage awaits…” he chuckles and extends his helmet at Frisk. 

They take it in their small hands seemingly unable to say no in their confusion. They stare at the winding flames painted on one side of its surface and their brow scrunches. Sans takes a moment to stare, at their face, the flowers peeking through their vertebrae and the sizeable bloom that covers one of their eye sockets. He notices the familiarity of their gestures but isn’t sure what to make of it, so he turns away for a moment to put on his gloves and after a while he coughs to get their attention.

They stare at him wide eyed and put the helmet on inexpertly, it’s too big on them and it wobbles. Repressing a laugh, badly, he walks over and carefully tightens the straps until it fits them snugly. He kick starts the engine and straddles his bike before extending a hand and helping Frisk clamber on. Despite rarely carrying anything other than groceries on the back, the bike does have room for two. 

The wind whistles past them and he keeps eyeing the mirror, catching glimpses of how they stare at everything hungrily; the sky, the trees that pass them by, the swaying grass on the side of the path and the birds that glide overhead. He is constantly reassured by the pressure on his back and tries hard not to break into a tirade of questions, declarations and doubt. In his own way, he too is terrified. Terrified of what he sees, terrified for what he can’t see. Terrified that his mind finally broke down, just when everything was looking up. He doesn’t want to think he could’ve lost it so thoroughly, but that would be easier to accept than this. 

They drive for nearly an hour before they begin to leave the country side. The small town they reach is quiet and few people walk the streets, on their way home from work or simply enjoying the last good days of fall before it descends into another lonely winter. The yellow street lights reflect off of Frisk’s exposed skull, dull before the sunny glow inside their eye socket. They haven’t noticed his staring as they swivel this way and that trying to absorb everything around them. They must have at least passed this place sometime, as they lived near Mt. Ebbot before, now it is definitely bigger and a busier. He stops at a red light only to hear a delighted gasp from behind him, Frisk gaped at a deer-like monster on the sidewalk that was followed closely by its child, both carrying shopping bags on their antlers. 

“Sans! Did you see that? “ 

“Yeah, I’ve seen her before at work.” He says over his shoulder.

“What do you work in?” Frisk asks, head leaning out to look at his face when they stop at a red light, he shrugs. 

“I fix stuff at the electronics store; next town over. Her kid goes there to get games sometimes.”

“That’s great…you got a new job.”They sound confused, but happy for him; it makes his soul twinge painfully but he ignores it.

“Yeah, guess it is.” he makes sure not to pause after that and is thankful for the following hour of relative silence. 

It is still barely light outside by the time they reach the apartment, Sans parks them slowly into the space between the buildings, securing his bike before offering Frisk some help. They walk into the small landing, up winding stairs onto the third floor. A peephole and the number 303 mark the dark wooden door, the lights inside turn on automatically and he holds the door open for them with an exaggerated gesture.

“Mi casa es su casa.” he says, Frisk huffs a smalls surprised laugh before walking in. 

It’s a plain apartment with a second floor landing, the space inside is small but it makes up for it in height. Straight ahead is the kitchen with a window over the sink that looks out into the street. Through a half open door they can see a bathroom; they stand in the middle of a living room with a plain, worn couch and a transparent glass pane, that looks like a television. One of the two doors in the landing is covered in posters, it must be Sans’ bedroom. 

Frisk, unsure of what to do, stares at the paintings and posters on the brightly colored living room walls. Their eyes linger on an image of sugar skulls adorned in flowers, colorful and strange. Sans clears his throat to get their attention and they fidget, fingers clattering together over the low hum of the appliances. 

“So I guess we can have the tour later, you want somethin’ to drink or whatever?”

“No, thank you...I’m ok.” Sans nods, putting away his things slowly, uneasily, before his phone chimes three times in quick succession. He frowns and digs it out of his pocket to type a quick response. It's replied instantly by another message and he growls, from the landing a faint, irritated voice can be heard calling for Sans and he groans in response. 

“Sorry about that I got a…guest upstairs. Lemme take care of this, I’ll come back in a bit. Sit down if ya want.” 

He gestures at the couch, they sit at the very edge, afraid to get anything dirty. He places the phone on a slot in front of the screen. It comes to life showing an abstract animation while a song begins to play. It is a jazzy tune, nondescript but pleasant. Frisk is left to their thoughts as the song plays, sitting here like this is disconcertingly calming after everything that has transpired. 

A part of them is still crawling over that bed of flowers while the other hopes to dismiss it as a bad dream. Meanwhile Sans goes up the landing to a door that leads to a small balcony on the roof, only to be greeted by a rain of magic pellets which he blocks with a spinning bone, scattering them everywhere with a pattering like rain on tin.

“Why are you so late!? It's so boring and cold out here!” A bright yellow flower sits in an ornate clay pot, waving its thin body this way and that while their magic still blinks in and out around their head, as if deciding whether or not to fire another barrage.

“I got caught up with somethin.” Sans rubs his temple and sits on a metal chair next to the low wall where the flower is perched.

“Caught up? You left me to die of boredom! My phone ran out of battery hours ago, you numb skull!....Wait, did something happen? You look odd...” his voice shifts from childish annoyance into concern. 

“Heh, you could say that…Something’s come up, don’t wanna talk bout it, just... you think you can sleep here tonight?” he avoids him, looking away from those haunting yellow petals.

“I…sure….Tell me tomorrow then?” he extends a vine and pats his shoulder firmly, just to make sure he would feel it.  
“Yeah, will do…” Sans places a small blanket over the flower’s stem and lets his hand linger on one of his leaves before leaving silently. Instead of pestering him for an answer Flowey thoughtfully measures the severity of whatever happened by the hunch of his shoulders under its invisible weight. 

“Good night, Sans.” 

“Nite, Flowey.” he replies closing the door. 

By the time Sans comes back down Frisk has become nervous, they question their situation and pick at their memories trying to figure out what would be the correct reaction to what is happening. They feel happy to be here, to be safe; but they also feel as if they’ve walked into a trap. They can’t be certain about anything, so they wrap their arms around themselves and wait for things to fall into place by themselves, realizing that not knowing is more painful than being afraid. 

“Hey, everythin’ ok in munchkin-land?” Sans asks in a low voice, yet despite the softness of his tone Frisk startles.

“Yeah, I’m ok. I’m just thinking.”

“Hey I get it, it's fine. You got a ton to think ’bout…A skele-ton.” After a while Frisk huffs in surprise, at how inappropriate that was, but covering a smile behind their hand nonetheless. Sans observes the reaction with a twinge of recognition, before he continues, hiding his grimace inside a smile.

“You can take my bed for now and we can, uh, figure out what to do tomorrow.” 

Frisk nods, the smile fading from their face, making specks of dirt drop onto their lap. Sans stands up, stopping in front of them, hands in his pockets. 

“I’d hate to be that guy but…I think ya could use a shower.” Sans says as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. They look down at their hands, taking in the dirt, roots and dry scraps stuck to their bones. If their hands look like this, they don’t want to imagine how the rest of their body looks. 

“Yeah I’ll go do that…do you have a bathroom?”

“Course I do, just ‘cause I don’t need to take a sh-” he stops when he sees their eyes widen. “... I mean…yeah, the house came with one. 'sides I do shower you know?” he ends awkwardly. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it...What about this?” Frisk tugs at the coat gingerly, pretty sure it’s ruined. 

“I’ll send it to the cleaners, just gimme a bit.” Sans walks into the room to their left and shuts the door, from under it red light flashes and slight clatters tell Frisk he is moving items in the room with his magic.

The thought that Sans didn’t expect anyone and is trying desperately to cover whatever mess he has in there, pulls a smile from them. He then goes up to one of the rooms where Frisk can hear him rummaging and swearing before he rushes down holding a bundle in his arms. He hands them some hand brushes and a towel, leading them to the bathroom with a brief and awkward explanation which he delivers sweating profusely. Frisk takes the items and thanks him before going in and locking the door behind them.

Beige tiles cover the floor and the shower takes up most of the space; inside it there is a small yet sturdy stool, which seems like an odd thing to have in there. To their left is a towel rack and next to it a basket full of dirty clothes. Frisk notices with a laugh that the toilet is being used as a table for towels and other random toiletries. They vaguely remember struggling to find a toilet in the underground and are appeased by the fact that the memory comes to mind easily. They carefully take the coat off and hang it on a small metal hook, dirt sprinkles from it and they make a mental note to clean the floor later. 

Then they head to the sink, and finally see the mirror. Without needing a preemptive gasp they begin a scream, which they try to smother in vain behind skinless hands. The clatter of shivers undertones the wail trapped in their non-existent lungs. There’s nothing but bones, just bones and grime, dry tatters of skin dangle here and there, their lipless mouth tastes of wet earth and its rot. Stringy straw clings to the side of their skull. They tangle it in one hand and it comes off with ease, staring at it caught in their fingers, it used to be their hair. But even more so than seeing their bones nearly picked clean it’s the horror of seeing green. 

Lithe vines, like strings are wrapped along their bones, blossoms are sprouting from their ribs and collarbone, quivering and alive. A single blossom is sprouting from their numb right eye taking up the entire socket, roots stemming from it to the side of their skull; vibrant in color and seemingly more alive than they are. Loud noises break into the frightening image, they glance at the door and the handle glows red, from behind it a growling voice rapid-fires urgency. The door snaps open and Sans is there, framed in red by the light of his hands and eyes. Desperation etches dark lines on his face. He is yelling a name; it is theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, can't wait for the action to start! Hope you stick with me until the end of this story 'cause I haven't gotten to all the plot and the drama and the comedy and the actiony stuff! (╯✧▽✧)╯
> 
>  
> 
> Sample of something similar to the jazz that was playing in Sans' house:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6hKTbdIawY&list=PL347D34B373D23B28&index=126 
> 
> (Ending theme, not opening)


	4. Paper walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk is brutally confronted with their new reality...Sans tries to help, hoping he won't fall apart in the process.

Sans stands at the door, looking around in desperation, seeing nothing but their bones shaking in front of the mirror above the sink.

“Frisk! You alright?! What’s-?” Sans looks at them up and down, confirming the lack of injury before focusing on their face. Their hands are holding the mouth tightly unable to kill off that coarse keening sound. Frisk shakes their head and glances fearfully at his glowing hands, taking a step back. Sans notices and quickly relinquishes his magic, turning his hands up as if to surrender. 

“Look it's ok, you’re ok….c-can tell me what happened?” fake lightness, fake smile, he’s shaking almost as much as they are. Frisk finally quiets and shakes their head again. 

“Ok, I get it, ok…Do you wanna sit down?” Sans approaches slowly and moves towards the toilet, Frisk takes a step to the side, never giving their back to him as he takes the toiletry basket and places it on the floor. They don’t make a move to come closer even as he steps back, so Sans sits on it and faces them instead. 

“Damn, that was really stupid wasn’t it?” Frisk simply stares, wide eyed. “I shouldn’t have let you see that by yerself, I wasn’t thinking straight… Look, do you want me to, uh, help you?” Sans scratches his cheek, self-consciously.

Frisk looks at the floor quietly for a long while trying to make sense of things and failing. They decide to trust in him just like they remember, and nod their head a tiny bit. That’s enough for him. 

“Okay then, uh…If you want take one of these and ah, put it around your waist, Imma take this off over here, kay?” he slowly reaches for a towel and offers it at arm’s length. Then turns around and takes his shirt off before tossing it to the floor over his shoulder, ways away from the laundry basket. 

Frisk stares as Sans pushes off his shoes and socks with his toes. His body is made of thick whites bones, similar but not exactly human, with a few scars here and there. They take a towel and struggle to wrap it around themselves, not just because of their lack of a stomach to hold it up, but because looking down at their body they can’t help but notice the flowers living in it. They can’t help but gag and the strangled sound makes Sans turn to them. 

“Hey, hey, hey…you alright? You got it?” Frisk shakes their head, before turning their head up to avoid looking at themselves and hopefully keep away whatever could some out of their mouth at this point. They are surprised how genuine it feels, the to heave urge lodged in their throat. They swallow the vile taste of their own mouth and try to breathe in vain, while Sans ties the towel around their hips. 

“Kay, you’re all set. Uh, when you can, just walk over to the shower. I’ll get the brushes and stuff…”

Frisk wonders for a moment what the brushes are for, then remember they are covered in dirt and god knows what else. They sit on the bench and turn to Sans, he starts running the water and filling a wooden bucket, adding soap from a bottle. He dips a hand brush in and approaches Frisk slowly, holding out a hand. His mouth is grinning but his eyes look desperate and their light wavers.

Frisk holds out a hand which he takes gently and begins to run the brush over it, from the wrist up to the forearm; the soft scratching noise of it fills the room. Sans appears intensely focused on his work, but keeps stealing glances at Frisk’s face. Their eye is wavering and small, it's light faded and lost. Soon enough the water in the bucket becomes dark, he changes it and gets back to work. He takes their other hand and they let him, their body dangling off the stool listlessly. Unable to keep with the tension Sans starts talking idly as he works away the dirt on their bones.

“So, I guess you didn’t mind the ride here?” no reply. “Papyrus says bikes are for teenagers or mid-life crises. Most folks think the bike thing is overkill but, really, it’s cheaper than a car, ain’t it?”

Frisk relaxes marginally as he continues to talk absentmindedly. The dirt keeps coming out from between their joints and they are starting to feel a tingling on their hands. It’s comforting to know they are not completely numb; their hand twitches when the bristles rub their palm, as it begins to tickle in earnest. Sans raises a brow at them, they shake their head. 

“It tickles…” Their voice sounds teary and coarse, they note, feeling unsteady. Sans has a look of utter relief and exhaustion peek out before he puts another smile on. 

“Yeah, that happens. Joints are the worst but that’s where all the dirt goes.” He scrubs harder and Frisk twitches, he huffs in amusement, rinses their hands and continues elsewhere. “I’ll get back to that. You can do it yerself if you wanna, that way it won’t tickle so bad.”

“Okay.” They turn and let him slowly scrub their shoulder blades and collar bone, too caught in their own feelings to notice the shake of his hands as he gently washes them. 

“You can go faster if you want.” they say, wanting to end this quickly.

“Sure….just don’t blame me if you turn into a giggling mess.”

“I make no promises.” They say goodnaturedly, trying to relax. 

Now that Frisk can’t see him, Sans’ face slips into a miserable expression, they talk idly about the town, a pun here and there as he pours away small clumps of hair and dead skin down the drain. He tries not to pull at the flowers much, afraid to hurt them, but he is disgusted at how bright the plants look as they cling to them. Mockingly they spring this way and that as he washes all the filth away hoping he could do the same with this weight in his ribcage. Sans turns away to refill the bucket, when he turns back his tense smile replaced by a smaller, albeit more sincere one. 

“Now the legs.” 

He kneels on the shower floor in front of them, holding one of their legs on his lap and scrubbing at their feet. Not surprisingly it tickles like crazy, they can’t help it and kick, hard, only to fall on their back with a clatter.

“You alright?!” he sounds worried. 

Frisk looks up, sprawled on the floor with a leg hanging off the stool and when they blush and nod, he sputters into a genuine laugh. It echoes over the walls and despite their embarrassment, Frisk finds themselves smiling. It ends too quickly but it makes them feel lighter either way; in the end laughter was always a good enough remedy for the both of them.

They sit back down as Sans instructs them on how to get the brush between the joints. When they reach their calves Sans keeps rubbing at their knees in circles never going any farther and Frisk moves the towel away impatiently and keeps cleaning. They are startled by a strangled splutter and look up to catch a pair of wide eyes on them. Sans’ face reddens and he goes back to refill the bucket, letting them have some space to clean their lower body in peace. 

As they finish up with their back to him, he stares at them. The graceful spine and sharp angles of their shoulder blades are beautiful, delicate. The feeling of nostalgia resurfaces and he wrestles it quietly, he can’t afford to let his mask waver. He keeps searching for traces of old gestures, the curve of their cheekbone, the way they turn their head, how they wave their hands to speak. Familiar and strange, to see these signs on another body and another face. Still the flowers mark a tangled trail of both truthful evidence and poisonous threat. He can’t hope this will last, those golden tethers will make sure he won’t. 

When he is almost done he hands Frisk his spare toothbrush, watching them amusedly as they make a mess of themselves. He laughs when they stare curiously at their own tongue, translucent with magic, colored a greenish yellow; then hands them some floss and mouthwash. They thank him with a smile and he returns it absentmindedly. When they are done, Sans brushes himself over quickly with peroxide, dries up and reaches out for a towel for Frisk. When he looks back Frisk is staring at them with that quiet serenity they used to have sometimes. It freezes him in place, the shock and wonder still fresh in him. 

“Sans, could you…help me get these off?”

Frisk looks down at their body, hand placed over their sternum, making his eyes wander over the tendrils that cling to their spine and fill their rib cage with yellow. They seem calmer than should be possible; a calm not born out of serenity but out of resignation. Something tells him they remember how much this hurts and so does he. 

His lip curls in apprehension which he quickly turns into a sneering grin. “Heh, I don’t really think…that’s a good joke.”

“I already tried it…it doesn’t hurt. I just want to see if I could take all of them off…”

Sans turns away, they had this conversation years before; he hated it then and it frightens him now. He squeezes the water from his shorts, wringing the fabric brusquely, avoiding them all the while. 

“Nevermind, it’s fine...Could you lend me some clothes, please?” they say simply, staring at his back.

“Ok. I’ll get em in a bit.” Stiffly he hands them a towel, avoiding their eyes, and steps out. 

Frisk takes that moment alone to look down at their body, trying to get used to its appearance. The blooms are scarce compared to before and are neither painful nor numbing, simply there, like an afterthought. They tentatively reach for their right eye, exploring it. They are unable to feel the bloom growing inside their socket, but instead feel the flower’s center pressing against their fingers. They push a little harder and their clawed fingertips poke their socket, giving them a sharp stinging pang.  
They cry out in surprise just as Sans returns. He stands in the doorway in a sleeveless shirt and a pair of striped boxers, Frisk avoids looking at him but can clearly hear his irritation.

“Here…so what's that?”

“I was trying to see if I could-I mean, I was trying to touch it and I...poked myself.” They say pointing at their eye socket, painfully embarrassed.

“…Eye see that you’re getting acquainted with all yer new...parts but I think you oughta get some shut eye; one that doesn’t include fingers.”

“Thank you.” they huff out with a nervous laugh, he frowns disapprovingly before shrugging off their thanks with a mumble. He turns to brush his own teeth and give them some space. 

Frisk dresses quickly, pulling the strings on the pants tight over their hipbones and fiddling with the shirt that is comically stretched over them. 

“Is it too much if I ask for some underwear?” they ask.

“Uh, not really, I just don’t have any.” they stare at him uncomprehendingly “Don’t really need it.” he shrugs, they don't ask anymore.

Frisk shakes their head and Sans beckons them to follow upstairs, they give up trying to be quiet and try to ignore how their feet clatter on the floor instead. His room is long and rather narrow, at the far end is a desk with a window over it, faint light comes through from the street below. There is a plain bed and another desk, this one strewn with papers and assorted knickknacks. Atop it is a keyboard and another screen, smaller than the television but made of the same glass-like material. There are posters on the wall from bands and movies, which Frisk can’t identify.

San’s bed is unmade and he walks over, bundles the sheets, throwing them in a corner before changing them. He sets up the bed and shakes the sheet before piling it at the foot of the bed.

“Here, all yours.”

“Thank you.” They stand around in awkward silence, until Frisk walks over and sits at the edge of the bed meekly. 

“It’s pretty late so I’ll leave ya to it. Let me know if you need anything...I’ll be next door.”

He points in the general direction with his thumb before shuffling his feet awkwardly. He’s wearing a pair of red slippers and Frisk stares openly until they are interrupted by him.

“G’nite.”

“Good night, Sans…thank you, for everything I mean.”

He stares at them for a few seconds, the light in his eyes wavers before he blinks it away too fast for them to identify the emotion behind them.

“Yer welcome.”

With that he walks out, they turn off the light and shuffle into the bed, the blue and orange hues passing through the window make the room seem surreal. They, stare at the ceiling tossing and turning, trying not to think about the grave and entertain their thoughts with something lighter and more cheerful. But when they look back at their day all they recall is the strained twitching at the corners of the other skeleton’s mouth. 

Frisk tries to remember more, of the Underground, of Sans and of themselves. They come upon the ugly realization that they don’t understand much of what little they remember. They remember they travelled with Sans, he cares for them, they can tell that much; but mixed in are these horrible memories where they suffer…no they die repeatedly. They cover their head with their hands and try to recall everything they can. 

Everything's a blur, images and stories that can’t exist together try to correlate in their head. A warm hand on their head, a embrace, the smell of baked goods and fire…and the feeling of being burned. They shudder and move on to another line of thought, cold water and echoes, a harsh female voice, darkness and cold; followed by heat and grinding gears, a metallic clanging ringing in their ears. They remember fighting, dodging, holding onto a hard hand and running, always running. They remember the creeping numbness that slowly ate at their body, the smell of dying flowers, nostalgic and rich. It is there where it ends, after that there is nothing else. These last memories are the closest thing they have to a sense of reality, while the other images fray at the edges, tainting the truth with blood and a faded joy bathed in the sunlight. 

They are distracted from their thoughts by a red light that shifts in the dark. An orb, an after image burned into their right eye. Perhaps from their fingers earlier, they recall warily, maybe their eye was damaged, then again they couldn’t see out of it. But suddenly the orb shifts and moves slowly, back and forth, pulsing rhythmically. Frisk strains to follow it, then starts softly rubbing their smooth palms against their eye sockets but it makes no difference. They still see it and their right eye won’t even close. Too exhausted to cry over it, they leave it be and turn to face the ceiling and the red after-image fades. Despite their exhaustion they are unable to sleep, so they snuggle deeper into the blankets and stand still, hoping that perhaps sleep will catch them. 

 

In the next room Sans paces back and forth, and berates himself for being so self-doubting. He decides, to hell with it, and presses the call button then quickly hangs up. Maybe it would’ve been better to just wait until tomorrow, he thinks with mild shame, when the phone begins to ring.

“Hello Sans, how are you?” 

“I uh, I’m fine Lady boss…I just-”

“You wouldn’t call at this hour…if you were anywhere near fine. Talk to me, you know I’m here to listen.” A shuffling noise comes through, she must be getting up from the bed. She waits until she hears a defeated sigh.

“I went to the grave today…”

“It’s been a few weeks since the last time, hasn’t it? That’s really good. How did it go?"

“Dunno how to explain this to ya but...They were there, doc.” he says, then her voice starts again, gentle as always.

“Aren’t they always? It's fine to spend time with them every now and then.”

“No, I mean literally there, they...they crawled o-out of their fucking grave…” he stumbles, choking on his words. 

“Please explain. What do you mean, exactly?” her voice remains controlled, even in the strangeness of the implication.

“It’s them. They’re in my house right now…they’re alive somehow…..They’re a-a monster.”

“Wait, slow down, a monster?”

“Yeah, they’re a skeleton now!” his voice cracks and he forcefully gulps down the knot in his throat. 

“Sans…”

“I’m not crazy, doc, I’m telling ya; I just walked them back through the whole damn Underground. Other people saw them, talked to us, they’re there! They’re here! I mean like right...here...” he extends his arm to point at the wall, tears finally pouring out as he begins to sob, a hand shoved into his mouth to muffle the sound.

“Please, try to calm down, Sans. Sit down and calm your soul, regulate your wavelength and calm your magic down...Now, think. How can that be possible? We both know that they passed away.”

“I know that, I saw them die…I helped bury them there for fuck’s sake…” his voice shakes as he forces it into a whisper.

“Is it possible perhaps that they are another monster that reminds you-”

“No,because they remember me...only things I would know, that they would know…I know how this sounds but I swear to you I...I know it's Frisk.”  
He sounds worked up again, speaking halted by his shortened breath; she gives him a moment to compose himself, taking notes in her computer all the while. 

“I’m not sure I understand, but I’d like to speak with you, Sans, tomorrow. Come by my office in the morning, before opening hours.”

“…I can’t just leave them alone, doc.”

“Then bring them along with you, you know it’s no problem; but I want to speak to you in person as soon as possible.”

“…I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that.”

“Sans…” she takes off her glasses, staring at the phone screen and Sans’ picture in it. She presses the request for video call and though he won’t let her see him, she knows he can see her and stares intensely into the camera.

“I’m going to speak frankly… Ever since I met you, you’ve been struggling with this; and you’ve worked so hard these past years to get where you are now. We both know you’ve gone through hell but we’ve established that you don’t have to stay there...So please, don’t do this to yourself, don’t try to go back...because you know it’s impossible and you have much more you can do for your future than spending it…trying to change the past. “

It is a while before he replies.

“Move it up to noon? I gotta do some stuff in the mornin.” he mutters.

“Of course, call the office when you can. Don’t be late this time.” she says unfazed.

“No guarantees.” a small smile tugs at his cheekbone. 

“No refunds.”

This time he actually laughs softly. “…Thanks, Lady boss. Good night.”

“Good night, Sans... And don’t call me that! You make it sound like I’m a drug lord.”

He breathes in deep and puts away the phone, finally settling on his desk. He moves the mess of books and notes idly before giving up altogether, put off by the sight of his shaking hands. He pours into the pile of books and cries in quietly until he is too tired to even do that and simply stares out the window, at the winking lights that slowly disappear until his exhaustion wins out. 

 

In the next room Frisk lays face up, hands clasped tightly over their chest, shaking. They hear muffled sounds and Sans’ gravelly voice, whispering harshly. They don’t catch what he says but the sound of him crying is more than enough to bring them to tears as well; and as they dot the pillow, Frisk decides to try their best to remember from today onwards. They recognize that even with the taint of fear in their mind another blessed part seems to soar every time he is here. So they choose to believe in what rings true about that feeling instead. But in that confounding sweetness they become more upset, for they can’t understand the root of either feeling and in the end it’s this uncertainty that drains them until they stumble into unconsciousness. 

They don’t know where they are, everything is black and when they look up there is something glowing in the air, a gold ring. A crown of flowers upon their head, their hair a coppery sheet. Black flowing robes that billow seamlessly as if made from the surrounding dark. Their face is the only light here, their eyes a bloody red and their lips are curled softly in a smile as they extend an equally pale hand.

 

**You found me.**

____

 

They sound so glad, hearing them makes Frisk feel glad too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it! I just realized I suck at chapter summaries i will either improve in the future or forego them altogether in favor of just letting the chap tell itself. Updates will be regular every sunday since I have some chapters written ahead. 
> 
> First OC is a minor character, she will have a proper introduction next chapter, stay tuned!
> 
>  
> 
> A song that helped inspire this version Underfell!Sans but has nothing to do with the story, welp:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5lDZjEcZSQ


	5. Meeting you again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk meets up with an old friend, will they be able to remember who it is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept some tags to myself because I thought they would spoil the content, but if you find anything as you read on that you think needs to be tagged let me know! Can't wait to get to the tangled subplots!

That morning he wakes early, the sunlight baking the side of his face as it pours from the window gives him no other option. Rubbing at the soreness in his skull absentmindedly, he makes it to the bathroom, brushing his teeth fast and scrubbing his face, he then walks upstairs, water can in hand. 

When he opens the door Flowey is facing the sun, languidly waving his thin body back and forth. He walks up to him quietly, catching a glimpse of fur and a muzzle before it shifts back into the flatter countenance of the flower. The flower’s eyes are closed, basking in the warmth; he taps his claws against the can to get his attention.

“Howdy, Sans! How did you sleep?”

“On the desk.”

“Again? How’s your neck?”

“Crackin.” he replies, rubbing his neck and cracking it loudly to make his point.

He offers the can silently and the flower nods. He carefully waters the soil, pausing every now and then. Flowey straightens, smacking his mouth and stretching, petals spreading and glowing in the rising sun.   

“So, what are we doing today?” Flowey asks.

“I’m…gonna go out for a bit, be back after lunch. You want anythin?”

“No, I’m fine. Are you…going to eat out?” he asks, unwilling to push him.

“Yeah, I’ll bring you somethin, whadda ya want?”

Flowey frowns, shaking his head and using his vines to stretch up until he’s eye level with the skeleton trying to avoid his eyes.

“I want you to tell me the truth. What happened yesterday?”

“Nothin I just took a while to get back.”

“You came back late, you were in a crappy mood and looking even crappier! That’s not ‘nothing’!...Did you get in a fight?” 

“What? No. Look, just stop, ok?...I don’t wanna talk bout this right now…”

At that Flowey stops, huffing in confusion, looking at the other for answers and finding none. 

“Tell me. Did something happen at the grave?... You know you can tell me anything, Sans.” 

Sans winces as if he just hit him, that soft tone Flowey used with the human so long ago is now being used to address him. Though they have spoken to each other like this before, right now it's bringing back memories he rather not ruminate into. He turns away, fists pressed against where his pockets would be over his boxers, pacing the small balcony,  gulping down air and words along with it. 

“I don’t-!…just…” he holds a hand up as if asking for him to stop, Flowey softens their expression and recedes into his pot. Sans sits on the ledge beside him, looking into the town and its sometime before he figures out what to say, conceding that it's better to take the sting of this out fast before it can fester between them. 

“When I went there yesterday…I found something, more like someone.” he says cautiously. Flowey continues to stare into the town, listening.

“They were there, those freaking flowers growin all over their body....They called me and I recognized their voice...so I brought them here. Must’ve lost my damn mind, cause I swear….it's Frisk”   

His voice is but a coarse whisper by the end, Flowey sways softly in the following silence.

“I want to see them.” 

Sans turns in surprise, his eyes warped by a sadness like gratitude. He nods wordlessly, pacing again, before turning to face the smaller monster, mouth set in a grim line. This will prove whether or not he’s lost it, and the realization comes hand in hand with the fear of accountability.

“Lemme talk to ‘em first, let ‘em eat and I can bring them up or take you downstairs, whatever.”

“Either one is fine...but Sans?”

“I know…if they’re not there you can call her.” 

Sans tosses his phone which Flowey catches skillfully and hides somewhere in his pot, along with his own. Sans raises a brow bone tiredly.  

“You better not have shoved that where the sun don’t shine.”

“Oh ha, ha; that’s rich coming from a guy that keeps mustard bottles in his ribcage.” says Flowey sticking out his tongue.

“Touché, douché.” he sticks out his own tongue in childish retort.

Flowey flings a small stream of magic pellets which Sans dodges as he turns around and shambles away waving over his shoulder.    

“Don’t be long!” Flowey says after him, fretful.

It has been years since they last saw him this afflicted. He is curious about the monster that caused this reaction and prepares himself too, for if they shook up Sans this much, they may very well affect him too. He digs through those old memories about Frisk, their smile and gentle hands, the short years they spent together compared to the years that had passed since then.

Every sunrise he stares into, every light rain that washes his face, the smell of summer, the stars above the town and colors of spring; every moment on the surface is precious, a small blessing that proves that though nothing but small traces remain; they were here once and he is here thanks to them. They made a difference in his world and that reminds him, despite everything, to do the best he can to be kind, because sometimes it’s all anyone can give, but it’s always enough. 

 

 

Sans walks downstairs, pausing before his bedroom door and hearing nothing but silence on the other side. His eyes downcast in grim amusement he walks into the kitchen and begins to cook a breakfast for three. In his room Frisk struggles to wake, their mind sluggishly clinging to the image of the person beckoning to them in their dream. Red fills their vision until they open their eyes to the streaks of light strewn over them through the blinds. 

Frisk can’t really tell how long they were asleep or what time is it. They hear faint sounds from downstairs but their mind works slowly, lingering in their dream. The unfamiliar sensation of magic buzzing inside their chest, the sound of their limbs clattering when they knock against one another and the way their shirt almost floats over their torso are so strange.  It's oddly terrifying to feel the unease of misplacement, when in truth they are unable to truly remember what it felt like to have skin and muscle over these bones.

They untangle themselves from the sheets, make the bed and wash up. By the time they reach the bottom of the stairs Sans is serving scrambled eggs, sausage and hash browns. The smell is spicy and strong if they had a stomach, they’re pretty sure it would be grumbling, as it is they actually feel their mouth watering.

“Mornin.” he grunts over his shoulder.

“Good morning.”

Frisk stands by the small table awkwardly and he gestures them to sit with the spatula before turning back to the stove, shoulders sagging in relief and exhaustion. They sit and stare at the food, now noticing  it has an odd sheen to it, they’re not sure if from oil or from magic. The sausages have a grid pattern on their surface that shimmers yellow, as if heat from the stove were trapped inside; the eggs have something like blue chives in it and the hash brown seems oddly transparent, like a piece of honeycomb. 

They hesitate, but despite its odd appearance their appetite does not falter. The taste is unbelievable, like nothing they remember. Everything feels soft in their hard mouth, the food makes their tongue tingle slightly, definitely magic. The flavor is sweeter than expected; but they are starving, and quickly reach for the rest of the meal.

“Easy on the grub, it ain’t going anywhere.” he says sitting in front of them causing them to slow down embarrassedly. “Hey, I gotta ask ya sometin. There’s someone upstairs that wants to come down and eat with us; someone you know. You alright with that?”  

“Um, yes. Who is it?” They figure it could be Sans’  brother and feel uneasy about it, recalling only a vague yet threatening impression of a looming figure in the snow. 

“It's Flowey.” 

Sans says taking a bite out of his food and observing their reaction. He gets to see every emotion play on their face: the doubt, the sudden flash of recognition, a relieved exhale and a downcast look.  

“I…don’t know if that will be a good idea.” they mumble.

“Why’s that?”

“….What is he going to think, when he sees me...like this?” 

They sit silently staring at their respective plates, Sans trying hard not to bend the fork in his claws as he replies.

“He’ll be happy to see yer ok…are  _ you  _ ok with it?”

Frisk closes their eye slowly, ribcage mimicking the motions of a deep breath. When they look back at him the sadness in it fades into the calm and resolve that Sans remembers, making his soul flutter painfully inside his ribcage.

“I want to see him. Let him know I’m alright...Besides, the food is going to get cold.”

“That’s why there’s a microwave. Anyway, Imma bring him down.” He takes the narrow door that leads to the roof; just from the look on his face Flowey knows what the answer is and shivers in disbelief and excitement.

“They’re still there...They wanna know if you’re comin down for breakfast.”

“Yes! Take me back in, I want to see them!” Flowey nods vigorously, reaching with his vines to grab onto Sans’ arms as he picks up his pot. 

“I gotta warn ya first. They…look different…” he grumbles.

“Oh…well it was a long time…..Are they really wrinkly?”

“What?! Hell no….ugh…I mean…They-They’re pretty much a monster now.”

“Wow that bad, huh?”

“No, goddammit! Listen to me will, ya? I mean they…They’re a skeleton, an actual monster, like me.” 

“What? No, that’s...they couldn’t-”

“You believe me when I say they’re back but not that they look different? What the hell?...Look, just-just look at them and…tell me if you…” Sans looks away ashamed.

“I will tell you what I think when I see them...So just let me see them, the suspense is driving me crazy!”

“Fine, just stop pullin’ me already!” Sans frowns, but his shoulders sag with relief. Flowey too, feels relieved, it’s always been so much better have someone you trust to face things with. 

Frisk hears Sans bickering as he walks down the steps, a familiar reedy voice muttering alongside his baritone growl. They try not to turn around until the steps pause behind them.

“Howdy!” Flowey is staring at them openly, stretching to get a closer look. His red eyes scan them avidly, pausing with a frown on the flower inside their socket and the tiny blossoms peeking from their collar; all too soon his eyes meet theirs.

“Hello, Flowey. It’s nice to see you...again.” They mutter shakily, standing slowly, hands clasped to keep from fidgeting.

The flower starts at the sound of their voice, face twisting and tears welling fast, vines spilling into the floor as he rushes over to meet them. Frisk is startled but reaches out to catch him as Flowey all but tumbles into their hands and clambers onto the thin bones, pulling up to face them.

“Hey, watch it!” 

Sans makes to separate them, afraid of how the other skeleton might react. But they seem happy and so he lingers by as they figure out what to do with each other. Flowey grips their bones with his vines and searches their eyes for hints of their old self. Frisk stares back nervously, the urge to embrace him conflicting with the fear of rejection; even so they can’t help the relief they feel from showing plainly on their face.

“You’re ok…you made it out.” They muster disbelievingly, brow bones knit together.

“Y-yes and you’re...here. I can’t believe you are really here!”

Flowey wraps his vines all the way around Frisk’s shoulders and pulls them close, their foreheads touching as they cry silently. After a while they separate, the flower returning to his pot. Sans places him on the table, pats Frisk’s shoulder, then pours them all some juice and they resume their meal. Frisk feels what they assume is magic from the food go down their throat to pool somewhere along their spine and inside their rib cage. The feeling becomes heavier until all their bones feel suffused in the fizzy goodness. Unable to help themselves they try and fail to pat their belly, a fact that does not go unnoticed by Sans, who snorts ungracefully. 

“I didn’t know you could move around like that, Flowey, it surprised me. ” Flowey and Sans exchange a brief uneasy glance. Flowey seems at a loss for what to say but recovers quickly.

“Oh, that? It’s something I learned awhile ago. I can’t stay out of the dirt forever, but I can make do.” He pulls his roots smoothly out of the pot and slinks over the table in a serpentine fashion, vines pulling his body along the table and all the way back to their pot leaving a little trail of dirt.

“Nice.” Sans says sarcastically as he wipes the table with his napkin and puts the plates away. 

Flowey and Sans continue to bicker while Frisk smiles into their juice cup, quietly. Sans takes them upstairs to give them a new set of clothes and get ready. This time they leave the bathroom door unlocked, but by now most of the disturbed feeling at their own body has ebbed into a dull acceptance. They quickly brush their body over and wipe it down with peroxide the way Sans showed them, finishing up to let Sans have his turn. Sans gets ready way too fast, just as Flowey is finishing a story about the town’s florist and their ridiculous hats, Sans is downstairs, fully dressed and holding a pair of fuzzy red slippers. They stare at him, aware of the implication but waiting for an explanation.

“Hey, I was thinking we should take you out; get you some clothes that actually fit and all that.” He waves the slippers at them before placing them on the floor. “In the meantime you’re gonna have to rock these, cause I don’t think any of my other shoes will fit ya.”

Flowey makes a slightly disgusted face at the slippers before the skeleton’s words fully register.

“Wait, You’re taking them outside?”

“Yeah, they need clothes and shoes.” Sans says firmly.

“Bu-But they could…They don’t have an ID!” Flowey corrects himself.

“I know, we’ll worry about that later, no one here really cares. Trust me.” He says to Frisk, who stares at the both of them confusedly.

“Real responsible of you…” Sans glares at him and he shuts his mouth, begrudgingly. Meanwhile Frisk puts on the slippers; they are extremely thick and fluffy, so that despite their usual numbness, their feet feel decidedly cozy in them. Sans shakes his head at Flowey then extends a hand at Frisk.

“So, whadda ya say?”

“I think I’ll like it, let’s go.”They smile and take his hand, dazed over the sudden change of events but comforted by their presence.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm planning on putting up a playlist of related songs if you guys wanna give it a listen. Also most of the chapter titles are related to song lyrics or titles but the songs don't really have much to do with the chap, just the title in itself, whoops. 
> 
> Anyway hope you stay with me till the end 'cause we got a lot more chapters coming on!


	6. Fitting rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans takes Frisk to buy clothes...or does he? (he does)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clothes+food bait. Works every time.

The three of them decide to walk to there, seeing as in this town everything is relatively close. Sans walks close to Frisk who carries Flowey’s pot in a satchel against their hip. The older skeleton points at the different places as they pass them by: the park, the supermarket, the bookstore. It’s a small and quiet town and though some people glance at them, no one seems to react much more than that. People here are used to seeing Sans and some even greet him, Frisk asks or comments briefly about their surroundings but are content with letting Sans lead the way and Flowey the conversation. 

 

They reach their first clothing store, a small thrift store called Fabulous Beasts, Frisk laughs at the name and Sans shoots them a smug grin as if he were personally responsible for the irony. It’s full of clothes for monsters, jackets with four and six sets of sleeves, various shaped hats and shoes. The teenage clerk greets them as Sans leads them to the back of the store where the majority of the shoes are stacked. There are some sets of four or six pairs, probably for monsters with many legs, there are fireproof shoes and rubber soles in different shapes, just the soles, they notice intrigued.  

“So, here we are, the shoe section. Make sure to find some really thick ones”

“Why? I’m not really going to feel all that different” 

“ They’re harder to wear out. These things ain’t exactly soft.” he taps the back of his hand which makes a muffled, hollow sound. 

“Oh, right.” 

“So, what size are you?”  he says looking at their feet.

“I don’t really know.” They sit on a bench, take off the slippers and wiggle their pearly toes. Flowey can’t repress a snort.

“Wow those are tiny!” he covers his smile with a leaf, Frisk puts the slippers back on embarrassedly.

“Fun-sized, it is then.” Sans is smirking as he picks some shoes. 

 

Frisk stares blankly at the bizarre selection Sans lines up. They are pretty sure most of these are ironic choices, rather than well-intended ones. After going through gray loafers, some very colorful flip-flops and pair of hot pink running shoes, at last they see something wearable: a pair brown boots. They are quite plain with some straps on the top and no visible zippers or buttons. They realize why soon enough as their leg is so thin, they can pull it all the way up easily, so easily in fact that the boot sags when they try to stand up. 

 

“Wait, you didn’t tie these.”  Sans gestures at them and they sit on the bench again, he kneels and pulls at the straps, making the boot  taut, right below their knee. Frisk wiggles their foot, feeling out the material and slips on the other one before walking up to the mirror. They really like these, they’re comfortable and practical. They try hard not to smile and look suspiciously at Sans who stares back with a neutral expression; unsure whether this was intentional or not.

“Just leave ‘em on, we still got other places to go.” Sans says softly.

“Yeah, you don’t want anyone else to see you with  _ those _ on!” Flowey says glancing at the slippers.  

“What wrong with my chanclas? They’re comfy!”  

“Exactly! You should only wear comfy clothes at home! No one wants to see those, they’re a fashion disaster!”  

“A flower giving a skeleton fashion advice, can you  _ be-leaf _ this guy?.”  Sans winks at Frisk while pointing a thumb at Flowey.

“That joke stopped being funny 30 years ago!”he says trying to bite Sans’ hand.

“That’ll be 24.75.” Cuts in the clerk, fiddling with a spike threaded through his earlobe. 

Sans pulls out his cell phone and the clerk takes it, scanning its glass-like backing and the register beeps in response. The clerk hands them a bag with a bored wave goodbye; Sans throws his slippers in the bag and walks out still antagonizing Flowey. 

“Thank you very much, these are really nice.” Frisk says softly, making Sans stop his bickering to give them a stiff nod.

“Yer welcome anytime, kid.”

 

They walk various blocks sharing stilted conversations until they reach the main street. They go into a clothes store that has some mindless pop music playing, its bright lights and well organized racks gave it a cool but welcoming air. Few clients roam the place, where they were greeted by a voluptuous woman. Frisk nods at her shyly, thrown off by her casual demeanor and feeling a bit out of place, as they can’t remember the last time they bought any clothes. 

 

“See anything you like?” says Flowey after a while. They startle, realizing they had been staring blankly at their surroundings for quite a while now.

“Uh, I don’t know…that looks nice.”  

Flowey turns to see a plain long sleeved shirt in a dusty blue color, they walk closer to run their hands through the fabric and look at the different sizes trying to figure out what their size is; when a hand slips in and pulls out one of the shirts. 

“Try this on for size.” 

“Ugh.” Flowey covers his face with a leaf.

They thank Sans and head towards the back of the store. 

“Excuse me, only one person per changing room, please.”

 

Frisk turns around to look at the cashier that looks at their arms pointedly. They carefully hand Flowey to Sans, so they can resume their bickering while they change. They go into the dressing room, confronting their reflection and beating the unease back by telling themselves they’re alright over and over. They take off their shirt and stare at the flowers inside their chest. Under the white lights their bones look ghostly and they notice for the first time how the ends seem to be tinged at with green, like a plant.

 

They stare at their reflection from all angles, taking in the way their body moves and all the new, thin shapes. Then turn to the clothes, deciding to get this over with as fast as they can and wondering how they will fit into something so small. Of course everything slips on easily, catching on their bones as if to remind them that’s literally all they are now.

 

The other are waiting for them so they refuse to continue with those thoughts. The shirts fit them well, a little long but it’s at least more dignified that Sans’ clothes thrown over them like a tarp. They exit the dressing room feeling slightly better, noticing Sans and Flowey are not waiting outside. They catch the back of his skull near the front of the store and walk over. His arms are full of various pieces of clothing and he is pulling a shirt from Flowey’s mouth.

 

“Put that back I ain’t buying it!”

“Mghhh!” Flowey wraps his vines around it and frees his mouth. “I think it will look great!” he’s panting with effort and an employee organizing the racks stares curiously. 

“They fit.” they interrupt.

“Oh, hey, we got you some more stuff, let’s go back there.” he says.

“I picked you a shirt, Frisk!” Flowey bobs excitedly and hands them the shirt by stretching their vines to them.

“Thanks.” Frisk takes it along with as much as they can carry from Sans’  arms back into the dressing room.

“Come out so we can see how you look!” Flowey says excitedly, Sans sits with him on a small bench next to the dressing room entrance. Frisk nods and heads inside, unease at their body replaced for a second by the teenaged embarrassment of trying on clothes in front of their friends.

 

They’ve come to the conclusion that either Sans has a questionable fashion sense or he is messing with them, as they go through flaming skull t-shirts, to a “Cool Cat” shirt sporting a cat wearing sunglasses. Flowey’s choices are prettier but almost as tacky, the flower patterns on some are honestly a bit morbid. The rest are much more passable and little by little they go through all the clothes. They also buy various packs of socks, Sans assures them they will need socks for days, to keep their feet from wearing through their shoes.

 

Once that’s done they stop to eat at a small diner a few blocks back; in a worn and comfortable looking place full of both humans and  monsters. The waiter is very neatly dressed and welcomes them with a dazzling smile, trying very hard not to stare at Frisk’s flowers as he hands them their menus. The food doesn’t take long to arrive, and they dig in eagerly. Sans takes the mustard and pours it liberally on his fries and burger, Frisk stares at him amusedly before reaching for the ketchup and pouring some over their own.  This time they savour their meal, taking small bites that still disappear too quickly. Flowey makes small talk while Sans just nods or frowns occasionally. Eventually when he does talk it is with a practiced casual tone. 

 

“So, I was thinkin. Before we go back, there’s someone else I want you to meet.” 

“Sure, who is it?”     

“Just a friend of mine, you’ve never met her, but she wants to talk to ya. Her name’s Sylvia.” Flowey glares pointedly at Sans, but doesn’t interrupt. 

“Alright, when are we going to meet her?” they ask amiably.

“I was thinkin we can pass by her place before we go back.”

“Alright, that sounds good.” They sound timid, but all around ok with the idea, so while Sans disguises his relief and Flowey his apprehension, they eat in relative quiet, each avoiding the questions they’d rather not have answers to any time soon.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Some specifics I haven't addressed directly yet, Frisk is agender here, so the pronoun I'm using is they. The narrative will focus on Frisk and Sans for at first, but will switch focus to the other characters as they appear: the gift of third person point of view. 
> 
> Any suggestions or comments are always welcome!


	7. Pitiless kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans takes Frisk to meet a new friend, someone that might help them figure out how to regain their memories. But there is more to the problem than just memories...

Eventually they leave the restaurant and make their way to an office building, farther east from Sans’  house, it has the same simple brick layout of most of the buildings in town but is taller than most. They take the elevator to a humble yet tasteful office, decorated in light colors and frosted glass. A couch and some cozy looking chairs line the walls of a waiting room filled with soft music.  At one end sits a receptionist wearing a flashy pair of glasses, thumbing idly through a tablet. Sans walks up and makes a sound as if clearing his throat to get her attention.

“Hey there Sans, Flowey, and, a new friend I believe. Hi there, did y’all come in for a visit?”  She eyes them each slowly, smiling genuinely in a relaxed manner. Though she glances at Frisk’s flowers she doesn’t seem surprised and continues to scroll through walls of text on her glass-like tablet. 

“Howdy! Maggie this is Frisk; Frisk, this is Margaret.” Flowey bobs to peek over the counter and she nods at them, smile widening.   
  
“Nice to meet you Frisk.” She shakes their hand and they share a smile. She turns back to Sans. “Did you make your appointment?”

“Yeah, I called yesterday.”  

“Good boy, yes the doctor said she’s waiting for you. You’re actually on time today. It’s a little early for a Christmas miracle, ain’t it?”

“It had to happen sometime.” He says shrugging, she laughs softly.   
  
“The doctor will be with you in a moment. Frisk, please sign these while you wait.” She extends some papers at them and they glance at Sans before taking them.

“They’re  a  _ guest _ . They’re not gonna to make an appointment.” Sans takes the papers and hands them back to her, she purses her mouth disapprovingly. 

“Then could you please sign this visitor registry, Frisk?” She hands them the tablet and they write only their name, she raises a brow but doesn’t say more. 

“The doc will give you their info later, Maggie. It’s fine.” Sans waves it off tiredly.

Her mouth purses further and she shakes her head at him, before giving an understanding smile to Frisk.

“Alrighty then, please have a seat while you wait. Mrs. Herring will be with you shortly.” 

They sit down to wait and Flowey continues his chatter, almost to himself as Frisk listens non-committally. Sans picks up an old magazine and starts thumbing through it lazily. A few minutes later a red-headed lady arrives, her languid eyes wander over them, pausing on Sans whom she acknowledges with a nod, he waves at her and she sits to wait alongside them. After about fifteen minutes a teen steps out, to leave with said lady and the three of them are called in. 

“Mrs. Herring will see ya’ll now, please step into the office, you know the one, Mr. Skeleton. I’ll see you here before you leave.” Margaret smiles at them as Sans holds the door for Frisk and closes it behind himself. 

There, behind a plain desk, sits an intelligent looking woman; her eyes may look soft but the rest of her appearance is neat and sharp. She has brown hair streaked with white pinned back and a pair of rectangular glasses halfway down her nose. 

“Good morning everyone, good to have you here, please have a seat.”

“Hi” Sans growled.

“Howdy!” Flowey chimed.

“Hello.” Frisk nodded. 

They filed onto a long couch and she steps out to sit across from them on an arm chair.

“It’s nice to see you again, Sans, Flowey and?”  

“I’m Frisk. It’s nice to meet you.” 

She shakes their hand and they wonder at the casual way in which she holds their skeletal fingers. 

“Likewise, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Sylvia Herring, you can just call me Sylvia if you want.”

She then sits, takes her tablet from the chair and begins tapping away at its surface purposefully.

“So, today we’re going to have a chat, first together and later on, a one on one. Just to get to know each other better. Sans and Flowey have talked about you quite a few times before, but we’ve never met so I need to know more in order to be able to help all of you. Is that alright with you?” She directs most of her attention at Frisk, her eyes trained calmly on theirs.

“Yes, it’s fine.” They reply politely despite their confusion. 

“Sans, did you tell them why you brought them here?” she quirks a brow at him. 

“I was just goin to…” he is scratching his cheek, pointedly looking away.

“But you didn’t, that’s rude. Oh well then; Frisk, I’m what people call a therapist. A person that talks to others in order to help them figure out how to face their problems. Sometimes it can be about complicated things, and other times it can be more about listening when someone has something on their mind. You’d be surprised how easily people can often find their own solutions, if they just take the time to talk about the issue.”

“So, like a psychologist?”

“Similar, but not quite. Therapists are more like guides if you will. In this case I’m not here to diagnose conditions or implement a serious treatment. I’m here as part of a support system to give advice and guidance. In other words I won’t tell you how to solve your problems, but I’ll help you by giving you the tools you need to find a solution by yourself. Each person has a way of facing their problems and, well, it’s my job to make sure they find the healthiest way of doing it.”

“I think I get it.” Frisk isn’t sure where this is going, but the straightforward way in which she speaks makes them feel at ease, she reminds them of a teacher, nobody in specific but they relate it to the general experience of taking in new information.

“Alright then, let’s start with the basics. I’m going to talk to you first, ask you a couple of questions. You guys are welcome to step in if you like, but let each person finish. Anything anyone says here, stays here, it is strictly confidential. If any of you need to step out for a bit, you will let me know, are we clear?” They nod at her before she continues. “Okay, I’ve been talking with Sans and Flowey, for…quite a while now and they have both told me a lot of good things about you. They’ve always said you are a remarkably kind person.”

They laugh embarrassedly.  “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Alright, so let’s start by talking about your day today. Sans told me you just came back to town yesterday; so, how has it been so far?”   
  
“It’s good, Sans’  house is really nice. We shopped for clothes today and I got to see more of the town. It was nice.” 

“Anything that stood out to you in particular?”

“Yeah, I was surprised at seeing so many monsters and people together, I’m not used to it.” they sound a little disoriented, she notes. 

“Really? Why is that?”

  
“I don’t remember it being like that, I was-There wasn’t as many humans and monsters together. They had trouble getting along. I thought I’d stick out, but people don’t even look at me funny here.”   
  
“I don’t see why they should, we’re quite used to having monsters around. Can you tell me more about yourself? Where did you meet Sans and Flowey?”

“In the Underground. They travelled with me.” 

“And, how was it? The time you spent there, I mean.”

“It was...difficult. But I’m glad I met them there.” They look down at their hands, fidgeting with their sleeves. 

“And why was it difficult?” she continues.   
  
Frisk looks at Sans as if asking for help or permission.   
  


“She knows the story already, kiddo, you can trust her. Back then monsters were going crazy trying to bring the barrier down. They needed-” he starts.

“Please wait, I know what you have to say about it, Sans. I know Flowey’s version too; but I don’t know Frisk’s yet; and I would like to hear it from them first.” she says sharing a look with Sans, he nods awkwardly.    
  
“What do  _ you _ remember about it?” She asks turning her attention back to them.     

“I-I can’t remember too much right now but, I do remember that the monsters there kept chasing me. I think some were trying to…to hurt me. I get the feeling I was running away, all the time. Flowey was with me from the start I think and later I met Sans in the snow town, in Snowdin… then he ran away with me. We ran through the whole Underground and made it to the exit, somehow…but I don’t remember making it out.” They ended softly.

“Why wouldn’t you have? You’re here now.” She is eyeing them attentively, gauging their reaction.

“Because…I was human when I went in, that’s how I remember it. I- I know I’m not right now but I remember feeling like that. My skin, my face and my hands but now… now I look like this and I don’t know...h-how-” Frisk voice wavers and Flowey wraps his vines around them gently.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must be difficult to remember all these things; but something sounds odd to me. How did you get back here, after all that?”

“I can’t remember that part…I don’t remember getting out. I remember getting there and then waking up here. I’m...” they look down, both frustrated and scared not just of not having answer, but more of the fact that there won’t be one.     
  
“Do you remember anything between reaching the exit and now?” her voice remains gentle but it starts to grate on them, as it underlines how out of sorts they feel in comparison.

“No.”

“What can you remember before yesterday?”

“...Reaching the barrier.” they say, voice shaky.

“And after that?” 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all?...Do you think there’s a reason you can’t remember, Frisk?” she insists, eyes hard.

They feel the tears already stinging in their eye sockets and opt to stare at their lap. shaking their head.

“Frisk?” Sans puts a hand on their shoulder, trying to catch their eyes. Their face turned slowly, towards him. It was as if they were seeing something miles away, all the years that had passed since seemed trapped in the turbulent light of their eye. Then with a blink the old warmth returned, along with their fiddling hands  clattering on their lap.

“Sorry, I think I spaced out a little. Can we keep going?” they rein in the tears, blinking rapidly.

Sylvia tapped away at her tablet, not missing a beat “ Sure, let’s see...could tell me how you met Sans and Flowey?”

“Sure. I met Flowey first…it was in a cave, I think? He was the first monster I saw. Then I think I met Sans in Snowdin. He and I would eat together. He helped me reach the exit, he…was always there, even when we were running, you both were.” They say turning to look at each of them. “I’m sure they helped me, I couldn’t have gotten anywhere without them.” They are pleased that today they can remember more, and hold onto those precious recovered tidbits of memories with fervor.

“It sounds like you’re all very close.”

“I guess we are in a way. We went through a lot together.” they say.

“Certain situations can really bring people together.” She nods knowingly. “But it takes time to know each other well. How long have you known each other?”

“I-I’m not sure. A year or two?” 

“Hm, could it be more than five?” She asks, making a gesture at Sans to not interrupt.

“Um, no I don’t think so. Could be more than one but not more than five.”  

“What do you think, Flowey?” she turns to him.   
  
“I’m not sure, I’m not really good counting human years, but it felt like we spent a few together.” Flowey says, his head tilting from side to side.   
  


This goes on for quite some time, she asks questions and they answer, Flowey and Sans interjecting here and there. Most of her attention is on Frisk and understandably so; eventually she asks the others to wait outside.     

“ It will only be for a moment, you can come back in when I call you, don’t worry Sans you’ll get your turn.”

“Don’t I always?” he smirks rather tiredly, carrying Flowey out with him.   
  
“Alright, Frisk, I will be very frank with you. I’ve been talking with Sans and Flowey for a long time now. They both had a lot on their plates and came here, looking to get better. “ She puts down the tablet and leans closer, an intent look in her face. Frisk is slightly intimidated but they can tell she means well, so they nod at her, firmly. 

“They’ve spoken a lot about you over the years, and it’s been quite a long time since they last saw you. The way things ended hurt them both, deeply. But as difficult as it will be for them from now on, I’m certain they can handle it. The problem is I don’t know  _ you _ well enough yet, I don’t really know what you’re going through right now or why. So I need you to tell me more. Not about the past, I can see that is still difficult for you; but about you right now. What do you want to do now?”   
  
They think hard about it, their mind still muddled in the struggle to remember.“I-I don’t really know…All I can think about  is that I spent all this time trying to get out of the Underground and now that I’m here I don’t remember what for. I don’t really know where I wanted to be or what I want to do now that I’m here…”

“I see. That can happen sometimes. We focus so hard on the goal it’s easy to forget why we wanted it in the first place.”

Frisk nods thoughtfully. “I honestly don’t know if it’s because I don’t remember or because I just wanted to escape the Underground…but I try to think back and I don’t remember how I got there in the first place…I can’t really remember anything before meeting Flowey.”

“Do you remember what happened yesterday? Sans said he saw you yesterday for the first time in…a long time.” she asks softly. They look away, still disturbed by the experience and nod. “Would you like to talk about it?” They shrug and she waits for a while, giving them the benefit of the doubt.

“I think...maybe I died when we left the Underground. Everything was dark until I just woke up. I felt-I  _ feel _ like I’ve been sleeping for a really long time, everything’s confusing. When I woke up, it was still dark but it was heavy and I could feel the dirt on top of me...like it was crushing me...so I crawled out of there…”

Their voice starts straining as they try to breathe without any need to. She finds the gesture almost alien, Sans doesn’t need to breathe, isn’t that a sign of magic strain? But they’re not using magic, they’re literally  _ trying _ to breathe. She moves to sit next to them and places her hand on their shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. A few shimmering droplets fall from their eye sockets and onto their lap, glowing faintly before soaking the fabric. They stare at their hands on their lap for a bit before continuing.

“Sans was there, he didn’t recognize me at first, but then he did and he helped me remember who I was and then brought me here, to the surface…I feel scared of him sometimes but I also feel safe. I don’t know how that makes any sense. There’s something different I feel when I see him, like he’s important, but I don’t really know why. I can’t remember anything about myself other than somethings in the Underground and some random stuff about town, but nothing looks like I remember and I don’t really know if it's that things are different or if it’s me…maybe I’m the one who’s different.” They finish, shaking slightly and trying to wipe their eye sockets, she hands them a tissue.  

“It’s alright, you don’t have to force yourself to remember everything. This isn’t exactly easy to understand for anyone, so take your time, Frisk. Have plenty of rest and eventually things will be clearer for you. Once you’re more grounded, more stable, then you can decide what to do from there.”

“How can I even decide what to do? I’m not even sure…I can’t really remember much about myself either, how can I-? How can I even decide what to do if I don’t even know what I want!” They look up at her as if expecting an answer, she looks back at them her sharp eyes showing a deep kindness. A pitiless kindness if there even was such a thing, that wants to believe they can handle this. She holds their gaze and squeezes their shoulder reassuringly.   

“You can take your time, you are safe here. Try to think of it this way: memories are the same for everyone. We literally can’t remember how things actually happened; our brains change what we remember so much if we could actually see things play out again we would realize they’re barely anything alike…and you know what? That’s alright. It's never a good thing to want to stay stuck in your memories and you don’t need them to know who you are. We humans are always trying to find out who we are, even with our memories intact, so you’re not different than any human or monster, in that sense. Try to take it one day at a time; I’m sure you’ll find all the answers you’re looking for eventually…okay?”

They nod, swallowing thickly and realizing it does nothing to stop the tears. Perhaps because she is so calm even in the face of this mess, because of what happened yesterday or just because she doesn’t know them enough to judge them, Frisk feels at ease with her. They lean into her slightly and she lets them, one arm over their shoulders is enough for now, with their head on her shoulder they let go and feel the weight fading from their own shoulders, if only for a little while.    
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far!
> 
> I'm really happy about how this story is developing, it starts out slow but then it really snowballs. Hope you stick around to see it unfold!
> 
> I will be uploading all the artwork as its finished, and by finished I mean colored. In the mean time I made a playlist of songs with the themes of the story. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> http://8tracks.com/drauphner/underbloom


	8. Dodging tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Flowey get their turn talking to Sylvia as they return to the apartment and start to figure out what to do with Frisk from now on.

********_  
  
_

Sylvia straightens in her chair, taking deep breaths. As a human it’s sometimes hard to understand a culture that revolves around souls. For monsters, their physical state is almost secondary to how they interact with the world around them. She frowns at her notes, this monster they call Frisk is the classic description of traumatic memory loss; yet she can’t ignore the possibility they may be lying, she’ll need to run this by some colleagues later. It’s hard to imagine for someone without magic, what is or isn’t possible to do with it. She reviews her information quickly, even calls one of her colleagues but finds nothing that might suggest a human soul can exist inside a monster body, which then begs the question: 

  
Who or what is this person?

She rubs her temples, ebbing away the frustration as Sans walks in. It’s obvious this whole situation is tearing him to pieces, and she is resolved to help him find a way to build himself back up from them if necessary. 

“I’m really glad you came over, this is an exceptional situation indeed. Sit, talk to me.” 

He frowns slightly, avoiding her eyes. She waits in silence letting him bring up what troubles him on his own.

“I dunno what to say, it’s…” he shrugs, shaking his head, at a loss for words.

“It’s alright; let me get the conversation going, then. I understand that you found them at the gravesite?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me how it happened?”She listens intently as he explains everything in a detached but strained tone. Sylvia notices how he avoids questioning the monster's identity as he continues to refer to them as Frisk. Could that really be their body? She’s not sure, but she is however sure this is going to take time. Luckily, both of them being monsters that’s something Sans and Frisk will have plenty of. 

“That’s…quite a story. I want to ask you something, I know you haven’t mentioned it but, is it possible that they are not who you think they are?”

“ Heh, that’s rhetorical ain’t it?”he grins bitterly. 

“What are the reasons that convince you this is the same person? Other than their behavior?” 

He looks away thoughtfully. “The stuff they know, they remember things only Frisk would know.”

“Sans, many people and monsters know about how the barrier was taken down. That isn’t a solid reason.” He gives her a cold glare before she eventually continues. “You are far more knowledgeable than me on the subject of unnatural magic; so, from what you know, is it possible for a human soul to exist in a monster’s body?”

“Technically? Yeah. Human souls can last a while after death, some monsters can absorb them.”

“That’s not what I asked, I’m not talking about absorbing. Can a monster body have a human soul, just a human soul?” his silence answers for him and she puts her tablet away, to look him straight in the eye. “Whatever the reason, this person is here now, it's great that you’re helping each other, but don’t lose sight of yourself. Remember emotions are transitory and shouldn’t define who you are and what you do. Keep each other company but don’t ask too much of them and especially don’t ask too much from yourself...My suggestion is that you keep going to work and doing your things until you both settle down. Remember if you need help I’m only a call away. In the meantime I think you should call someone over to support you. I know Papyrus is away, but perhaps a trusted friend?”

“Tori’s coming over today to pick Flowey up, I could ask her.” he says reluctantly. 

“But?” 

He huffs out a sarcastic laugh at her perceptiveness. “She might have trouble handling the news. They used to be one of her kids, the last one they had Underground, actually. “

“I understand. Maybe it would be best to wait until the next time you see her, to let her know. Still, spend time with someone else, ask them for advice... Perhaps someone you can talk to someone that isn’t quite so emotionally involved with them?”

“Like Pete?”  

“Actually that sounds good, you have some catching up to do and I’m sure he won’t mind staying over a while.”

“Does he ever?” he relaxes a little and chuckles good naturedly. 

“I’m pretty sure he never does, particularly when food is involved. Give him a call, and Sans?”

“Yeah?”

“My advice is to give this, and yourself some time and space”he opens his mouth to say something but she continues over him. “No pun intended, just...I know what this means to you, but I also know you’re smart enough to know better. Please, give yourself the time you need to find your focus and give the both of you space, to come to terms with this by yourselves. You’re going to need that in order to figure this out.”

Sans nods and stands up, exchanging parting pleasantries and shaking her hand gently in his claws before leaving. After all these years he’d almost overcome this, she was still an intern when they’d first met, back when he’d reached rock bottom. Now she was so much older and so was he, but even now this was still painful, even now he couldn’t let go of their memory. With this person now in the picture, how could he hope to ever let them go now?

 

He looks exhausted when he exits her office and Frisk keeps sending him worried glances, but Flowey is calmer, because he knows that it’s a sign Sans will come to terms with this eventually, even if it takes him a couple of decades. He knows from experience that keeping up a happy charade is more draining than admitting he feels like crap and moving on from there. It’s his turn next and he is very excited to be with Sylvia again, she is a no-nonsense type of person that is also a good listener, and it’s not like he hates to talk. 

By the time he finishes sharing his thoughts she’s smiling slightly. Flowey’s body has shifted into an imitation of his original form, a skill he’d been honing for the last few decades. A small monster boy sits with a flower pot on his lap, hands digging into the soil absentmindedly, legs swinging from the couch. She is fascinated by him as always and proud of his progress, she hopes he will mediate and continue support Sans and Frisk from now on.

“I’m glad to hear how well things are going for you.” 

“Yes, things are great! Gee, I’m so glad Frisk is back, there’s so much I want to show them!” 

“I’m sure there is, it’s been a long time since you last saw each other. They seem to be taking it remarkably well.” she says pointedly

Flowey looks guilty at that, their fur rippling into leaves for a fraction of a second in a shuddering motion. Sylvia knows that he, unlike Sans, is closer to accepting the reality of things. Despite the fact, or in truth because he is much more rational, Sans tends to rationalize his feelings and justify his misgivings. Flowey, is much more emotional, and as such is able to identify his feelings more easily before acting. Now that he’s more mature he’s able to think before acting on his feelings, rather than be ruled by them like before. She knows for a fact that even when Flowey hides his feelings from others, at least he doesn’t hide them from himself. 

“I want to tell them, but I haven’t found the right time. Sans has been giving me these looks everytime I try to bring up the subject and I think it’s because he doesn’t want them to know. Maybe he thinks it will hurt them?”

“Do you think it’s best to tell them now?” she prompts.

“Of course! It’s better to just go out and say it because they will find out sooner or later. It will be worse if we hide it and they think we lied to them this whole time!” 

“That’s a very accurate assessment. It’s safe to say nobody likes to be lied to, particularly by people they care about.”

“Sans thinks he’s protecting them, but at the same time maybe he’s scared to lose them again…I know I am. I know you might not understand us; why we make such a big deal out of it, like a pair of losers…but Frisk? Back then, they were everything to us. They were the only person to be truly kind to us. They just tried so hard to be nice to monsters that didn’t even care….Back then it made all the difference to me. Back then I don’t think anyone but Frisk remembered what it meant to be kind to others…They changed us, you didn’t know how we were back then, but we’ve changed!” 

Big fat tears are rolling down his muzzle and he leans forward as if straining to compel her, she refrains from hugging him and sits next to him, reaching out to place her hands over his that are still holding the pot. 

“I can see it, I know firsthand how much you’ve grown since I first met you. I can tell by the way you are now, that Frisk changed both your lives, and changed them for the better.” She hands them a tissue, telling herself that despite his appearance he is probably five times her age and doesn’t need her wiping his nose for him. “But I want you to remember what I told you, I know it’s been a while but do you remember what I said that thanksgiving five years ago?”  

He looks up as if looking for the words and nods slowly. “Those around us bring things into our lives and...we choose what to make with them?”

“Close enough. People or monsters we meet are experiences too. They come into our lives and they are like building blocks, some are sharp and broken, others are beautiful and strong. But either way it’s up to you, to choose what to make with them, what to build with these blocks…Frisk brought you and Sans, many beautiful things and you two feel grateful.” 

“They made us kinder, Sylvia, they made us believe it was alright to be happy again.” 

“But remember they didn’t make you kind, they gave you the chance to be kind, by believing in you and trusting you. They didn’t make you into something new, Frisk helped bring out what was already there.”

“That’s easy to forget…when you do the kind of things we did down there…” he says dejectedly.

“You learned from those things and choose to do differently now. That’s the best you can do and trust me, it’s more than enough, Flowey.” she pats his shoulder before returning to her desk.  

  
  


They all leave the office feeling exhausted, waving away at Margaret in the waiting room. It's raining heavily outside, so they take a cab to the house, crowded with all the shopping bags piled with them in the back seat.  When they reach the apartment they eat some leftovers while watching a movie on the couch. It’s a comedy Frisk had never seen, about a reporter that is granted god’s powers for a week. 

Frisk laughs alongside the others, glad to be able to relax for a while. All too quickly they feel tired and sleepy, though it is still light out so they chatter with Flowey while they wait for the food and nerves to settle in their body. Sans takes the chance and calls his friend Pete to come over the day after tomorrow; Pete’s excited to catch up, despite the fact they work together at least three days a week.   

“Hate to break it up, but it’s almost seven.” 

“Do we have a curfew?” The question slips out from Frisk’s mouth and they press their mouth closed in embarrassment. Sans raises a brow bone amusedly.

“We might get one for you kiddo. Nah it’s for Flowey.” Flowey makes an unimpressed face at Sans before replying.

“Let's go watch the sunset before I leave. Wait, where’s my backpack?”

Sans points a thumb at the lazy boy on the side, a kiddy-sized back pack filled to bursting sits there next to a bowl in a plastic bag he prepared earlier.   

“What’s in the bowl?” asks the flower.

“Lettuce.” says Sans.

“Lettuce? What lettuce?”

“Lettuce forget about it and go upstairs.” 

Sans smiles lazily, slightly amused at how easily Flowey keeps walking into those and picks him up. Though momentarily stunned, the flower soon hisses and decides to gnaw at his arm all the way upstairs. Frisk shakes their head and follows, mind numb with the weight of lingering questions and the futility of finding no answers.    


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always!
> 
> I'm going to give out a warning that though the main conflict is about identity, the other main conflict is about what it means to love someone. So, there will be romantic relationships developing eventually and some established relationships. 
> 
> The tags will be updated along with the chapters to keep them as surprises, but there will be at least 3 romantic couples, all with their own issues. One is canon and the other two not so much...and yes Sans is in one of those couples, eventually. ;)
> 
> Let me know what you think and how I can improve the story or my writing and I hope to see ya next time!


	9. A visit and a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk gets a visit from an old friend, that night they have a vivid dream...  
> or would nightmare be a more appropriate word for this?

********_  
  
_

Sans takes Frisk through a door they’ve never used upstairs, it leads to the little bit of roof above the kitchen, where there are some metal chairs, a table, air vents and other maintenance structures. On a ledge against the wall is a row of potted plants and gardening supplies, there is a clear spot in the middle of the ledge, just enough for a person to sit.   

They can see Mt. Ebbot from up here; it looms over the town from a distance, making the buildings look too small by comparison. It’s quite beautiful, the sun has already set but the day is taking its time darkening into night, the streets still shining with the rain from before. Frisk leans over the wall that barely reaches their chest to look down. People and monsters fill the streets, all busily going somewhere. Frisk stares openly before a nagging thought makes them turn and ask.

“Why are there so many people out now? It was empty yesterday...What day is it today?”  

“Uh, it's Monday.” Sans replies, caught off guard.

Frisk nods then turns to continue staring down at the street, Flowey glances at Sans and gestures with his head at them as if to tell him to just do something about this. Sans ignores him, until he and Flowey end up struggling in silence. The flower wraps around his arm to push him forward, the skeleton pulls the vines off and backs away. Frisk turns and catches them at it, pausing at their awkward expressions with a laugh.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Nuthin...Don’t get too close to the edge there, it’s not safe.” Sans grumbles.

They shrug and walk over, sitting on the low wall where Flowey is usually perched and patting the spot next to them. Sans places Flowey down on one of the chairs and squeezes in next to Frisk.

“I want to ask you something.” they say.

“Yeah?” he’s already starting to sweat, they note.    

“How long has it been since I…left?”

“…Only a lil while, kid.” he replies gruffly, avoiding their eyes.

“Sans…I can tell it’s been more than that…Things look different, they feel really different.” Sans looks away, stubborn as always; his mouth moves but he doesn’t make a sound.

“I has, it’s been around fifty five years since you’ve been gone.” Flowey cuts in matter-of-factly. “He’s been counting.” he pointed at Sans with his head.   

A glowing red bone appears from thin air, buzzing sharply as it flies, only to be dodged skillfully by a winking Flowey.

“Thanks asshole.”

“They were going to figure it out sooner or later, so, you’re welcome!” the flower replied , gloating much like a sibling to another. Sans growls and looks like he’s about to start another argument but pauses, seeing Frisk’s face.

“Is…it true?” Their panicked expression is similar to the one they had the day before, Sans nods warily, placing his hand on their shoulder. 

“Yeah...it’s been a while.” he says lamely.

“But how did I...how am I here then?” they can’t complete the thought as there is nothing to fill in the blanks inside their head.

“I dunno honestly. I thought you  _ chose _ to…maybe you don’t remember yet, it's ok…we just-we can figure it out.” he says, smiling weakly.

“T-that’s right we could ask Alphys! She can help us figure it out when…when you’re ready?” Flowey chimes in nervously. They nod, storing away their unease to fuss over later. Sans’  phone begins to ring and he turns away to answer, before turning back to Flowey.

“Yer mom’s downstairs. Imma let her in, then pick you up.  Stay here.”  

It’s understood that it’s meant mostly to Frisk, as Flowey simply nods and Sans leaves them a moment to say goodbye. He gives Frisk a reassuring hug with encouraging words to go with it; all too soon Sans takes him downstairs. They can hear a pleasant female voice alongside Sans’ gruff rumble, for a few minutes before the door is closed and the skeleton returns to their side.   

 

 

“Sorry ‘bout that; Flowey can be a thorny prick sometimes. You ok?”he asks.

“I’m still getting used to this, but I can handle it.”Sans nods at that, as if to say he understands; but he is sweating even more now and Frisk can feel the tension emanating from him. 

“We’re gonna have a friend staying over from next Wednesday on, his name’s Pete. You’ve never met him but he’s a nice guy. I uh, am gonna be working from tomorrow noon till the end of the week and I thought…” he drifts off awkwardly. 

“It’ll be nice to have company, thanks.” 

“Heh, yeah.” he looks relieved and they sit and watch the stars come out until he falls asleep with his head on his chest. After a long while Frisk heads out to get changed; he startles awake almost immediately and looks at them through eyes narrowed by sleep. 

“Where ya goin’?” 

“To sleep soon, you should probably go to bed too…oh wait.” they pause, realizing they’re using the only bed in the house.

“Heh, I would but the couch has my name on it.”  

“And so does the bed. Thank you, but I think I can fit on the couch better.”

“You callin’ me fat?”

“W-what? No, no, that’s not what I meant!” their cheeks glow slightly with embarrassment and he gives them a lopsided grin.

“I know, I know; don’t get so rattled.  I’ll pull out the futon,  you take the bed; I want ya to have it. We’ll just get another one later.” 

 

They stammer all the way downstairs and Sans continues to ignore them as by the time they come out of the bathroom he’s already settled on the couch making what are definitely fake snoring sounds. He continues to sleep on the couch for the next week until seeing who can make it there first it becomes like a game. He ignores their protests and somehow keeps outwitting them so that every night he’s already ‘sleeping’ on it before they can argue. That Wednesday they met Pete, turns out he’s a good cook and a great magic teacher, showing Frisk the basics of making monster food slowly but surely. Also he’s a rock, literally. 

 

Pete was once Sans and Papyrus’ pet rock, but he’d grown up, gotten a job and moved out not even two decades after they reached the surface. He worked with Sans at a computer repair shop, their shifts coincided in the afternoons but Pete had most of his mornings free and so he kept Frisk company while Sans worked. Frisk was aware Sans never left them alone and it made them feel a bit uncomfortable at times, but they knew he had good intentions. It was nice for a while to just stay at home, read and watch movies, mostly catch up on all the things they had missed these last fifty odd years. 

 

It was daunting and depressing to realize the majority of people they knew, both personally and public figures; had already passed away. Though they barely remembered anything about their friends or family it still left Frisk feeling mournful and tired. It was a strange new place they found themselves in, politics had changed much since the appearance of monsters and so had the media. Already there were movies, monster rock stars and monster themed parks. It was as if the towns had stayed the same but all the citizens and culture had been completely transformed.   
  


It made them feel constantly displaced, which might explain why most nights Frisk would have nightmares, the kind that mingled old memories with their thoughts of each day. By the time they would get up to start the day they were unable to remember what exactly about them was so troubling, so overtime they came to mention them less and less.

 

Being with Sans and Pete all the time, really helped keep their minds off things, particularly because with so little to remember, there wasn’t much else to think about. The week after that they finally managed to make pancakes; their food was still a little more chewy than average monster food, but at least now it was edible. They also learned that monster food tasted differently depending on who made it; Sans’ food tended to be savory and sometimes spicy, while Pete’s had an oaty, earthy flavor; theirs usually had a hint of sweetness and citrus. But if not used carefully magic could easily ruin a meal, so they practiced every day hoping that by the time next weekend rolled around they’d be able to make Flowey and Sans some decent pancakes.

 

Turns out they were  decent, if not shapeless;  Sans asked for seconds and Flowey kept emphasizing  how much of a better cook they were. Together the three of them spent the day buying groceries and having a Jim Carrey marathon. Frisk didn’t remember many of his movies but had recently become a fan and was disappointed to know he too had died in the time they were away. It had just started darkening when Sans picked up on the topic of Toriel’s visit, he’d mentioned it the past few days, but as usual, he’d continued to flounder around the center of the issue.  

 

“She’s gonna ask ya a lot of questions, you know?” he warns with practiced casualness. 

“I can imagine...I mean, anyone would. It's alright, but do you think she’ll be upset?” they ask, their priorities clearly in disorder.

“Dunno, don’t think so. She’s tough, tougher than you might think; but yeah, it’s still gonna be a shock.”

“We mentioned something to her, she knows she’ll be meeting someone from the Old Underground, so it’s not a  _ complete _ shock.” Flowey put in hopefully. 

“I guess...I just hope it turns out okay.” they admit.

 

They wait for her to arrive, nerves rising when Sans answers his phone, signaling her arrival. He turns to Frisk then, apprehension on his face as he walks past them, placing his hand on their shoulder before shortcutting downstairs. They fidget and wait while Flowey mutters comforting nothings at their side, wrapping his vines around their shoulders with a reassuring weight. The door opens and there she is, as beautiful as she is immense. Toriel has to bend her head to pass through the doorway without her horns touching the frame. She is wearing a turtleneck, sleeves pushed over the soft fur of her forearms, a long skirt and a light coat she hands to Sans.   

 

Her yellow eyes are still surrounded by shadows but look softer, almost dreamy. They glance nervously at her horns, sharp and still tipped with a reddish blush. She nods at them in acknowledgement, casually, intrigued but not a hint of recognition in her face. Frisk is not listening to what is being said between her and Sans, still stunned at her size, but more so at the delicate way in which she carries herself. She looks so different from the beast enveloped in flames they remember, from the disheveled creature with a sick glint in their eye, only the scar running down her ear reminds them she is the same one. She is staring at them now, curiously; they realize she must’ve spoken but they didn’t hear a word she said.

 

“Uh, this is who I wanted you to meet, Tori.” Sans glances between the two of them, offering her the lazy boy across from the couch to which they seem glued. 

 

“It is very nice to meet you, my name is Toriel Dreemur.” She shakes their hand in her paw and it disappears between her digits.   
  


“It is not often I see Sans having someone over, I’m glad. He could definitely use the company before he gets too  _ bonely _ .” She laughs as if to herself and they are stunned enough to let out a nervous laugh. Sans smiles tensely, standing a little ways away between them. 

 

“Howdy mom!” Flowey chirps from their shoulder, she runs her finger along his face affectionately before sitting in across from them, making the chair creak. “We wanted to introduce, or talk to you about, um...” he looks at Sans for support, who’s already sweating before even saying anything.

 

“Toriel, I’m….my name is Frisk. It’s nice to see you.”       

 

She smiles as she nods, then pauses frowning slightly as if trying to listen to the words replaying in her head. Toriel turns to Sans with a nervous laugh and avoiding looking at them. He places his hand over hers, holding it firmly and looking at her in the eyes. 

 

“Toriel I-when I went to the grave last time, I found-it's…”

 

“Sans...let me do this, please. I want to explain.”  Frisk interrupts gently, their voice trembles but they look back at her evenly. She is holding a hand to her mouth, her eyes watering as Sans pats her other hand awkwardly. Frisk goes through the motions of taking a deep breath, still finding comfort in the gesture.

 

They tell them about how they awoke under the grave that night and crawled up, hiding in the cavern until Sans found them. The light in Sans’ eyes disappear as he listens to the story in their own words. Toriel is staring at them attentively, her expression strained. Sans nods at them to go on, though he too looks tense, Flowey squeezes their shoulder and with a hand wrapped around one of his leaves they continue. 

 

“ Then Sans brought me here…It helped me remember. I’m still having trouble, but after awhile I remembered Flowey and you, Toriel. Even if I don’t remember everything I hope that I’ll be able to remember more, now that I got to see your face. I’m hoping one day I’ll remember...everything.” 

 

A sharp gasp and she’s covering her face, shoulders shaking, the words she mumbles are muffled into her hands. Sans makes a gesture for them to wait, rubbing her back with his other hand until he gives up and stands up to throw his arms around her, he can’t really envelop her completely but it soothes her regardless. She looks up at them after a while, long lashes soaked but her eyes are sharp and focused. 

 

“How can this be, child? You were…you died. What happened to you?” She stands and walks over hesitantly, extending a hand. Toriel cups their face, thumb lingering next to the flower peeking out from their socket.    

 

“I…I don’t know. I really can’t remember a lot of things.” She turns their head this way and that, examining them, looking for an answer or proof that they are lying.    

“My goodness, what are all these flowers doing here? Are they hurting you?”

“I’m not sure, they don’t feel like much of anything, really.” they mutter, slightly ashamed. Sans makes a sound as if to clear his non-existent throat.

“We don’t really know how they, uh, became like this. They had flowers growing on them when they…disappeared. But that doesn’t explai-”

“Sans, they need to see a doctor. We don’t even know if this is really…something dangerous. They could be sick.” She sounds oddly detached for a moment as she turns to him, he frowns at her stubbornly before dodging her gaze and nodding.

“We were thinking of going to Alphys, eventually.” he mumbled.

“I never thought about it but maybe she can help us figure out how Frisk became a--alive again!” Flowey corrects himself.

“Smooth. We need to get them an ID anyway. They’re gonna need it if we wanna make it back to the Underground.”

“Sans…” They couldn’t see Toriel’s expression from where they sat but they understood something was being exchanged between the two of them. He avoids whatever it is and walks over to stand next to Frisk protectively.

“I do believe this is a lot to take in for one evening. Let us take a moment, I think we all could use some tea.” She says looking at them, probably as aware as anyone else in the room that Sans couldn’t make good tea to save his life.  

“Sure, I’ll get right on that. Excuse me.” They say as they stand, leaving Flowey on the couch  and heading to the kitchen, trying their best not to look at Sans who is already fuming.

“Lemme go help ya. Don’t want anyone saying’ I’m anything but a  _ tea-riffic _ host.” he says bitterly.

Toriel walks in after them shaking her head at Sans, one hand cradling Flowey close to her chest. 

“We could go to the Underground together, if you like? Perhaps seeing those places again will help you remember.” She says softly.

“They didn’t get to see much more than the ruins, Toriel, they were blind.” Sans mutters. 

“W-what? Oh, please forgive me, it slipped my mind. I know you told me so before, but never did see them like that, after all.”

“It's fine. I can’t remember much of anything either. I really must’ve been blind...either that or I just have a really bad memory.” They say shrugging and smiling shakily.   

“I am sorry, child, I did not mean anything by it. I am just…surprised. In all my years I have never seen anything like this happen, I…” her eyes drift away, pausing briefly on Flowey before a crash interrupts her. 

  
Sans picks up the shards of the cup with his magic and flings them in the trash with force. The kitchen is quiet as they sit and he pours them tea, frowning all the while. They drink mostly in silence until Flowey starts rambling about his domestic life with Toriel to fill the quiet. She continues the conversation and soon enough all three of them are talking politely, while Sans pretends to nod off with a tattle tale frown on his face.    
  
  


When it’s time to go, she takes Flowey’s things and they walk her downstairs, she invites them to visit her house and holds both of Frisk’s hands in farewell. She then holds Sans’ shoulder and though he barely says anything and is still scowling, he places his hand over hers.

 

“Please do talk to Alphys when you can, Sans. I’m sure she will do her best to help answer all of your questions.”

“Sure.” he replies all too quickly. She gives him a knowing look before turning away, Flowey waves at Frisk over her shoulder.

“See ya next weekend, Frisk!” he says happily.

“See ya, Flowey!” 

 

Frisk takes it both Sans and Toriel are keeping a lot to themselves, but they know better than to ask about things they may not be ready to hear the answer to. That night Sans doesn’t even pretend to sleep, instead he sits on the couch pretending to watch the TV. They say goodnight and he replies casually enough; yet they are sure he won’t be sleeping much tonight. Not knowing what to say, they make some warm milk and leave it on the table next to the couch for him to have later. 

 

 

As they lay in Sans’ bed they go over the little tidbits of information they gathered today, trying to connect the images they keep in their head to the things the others say about them. It’s as hard as trying to tie their memories, to the reality of each of Sans, Flowey and Toriel in person. They are always too sharp, too gentle or too dark by comparison. It is with their mind ruminating into the workings of their memories that they fall into another vivid dream.

 

_ “That is simply the way humans are. They always come back because they cannot help themselves. You don’t know what you’re saying. It's only because you haven’t seen one before… I’m certain they would kill you too….”  _

 

**-They would break you into pieces my brother-**

 

_ The voice fades in and out. They see the oddly familiar face of a young monster turn in distaste, perhaps unnerved. _

_ “D-don’t say that, maybe they...” _

_ “Forgive me, I don’t mean to frighten you, but ‘tis true. I have seen it…I have felt it. I know it in my heart that it’s true.” _

 

_ Staring down at your pale hands, dotted in freckles. He takes your hand in his white paws, It’s a wonder how time has changed you, yet he remains the same, looking barely a year older from the day you first saw him. When you two first met your hands were almost the same size, now his paw would almost disappear into your hand. The light beams, refracted from small holes in the barrier, peer down through the windows. Fake sunlight, fake stars, fake sky and fake freedom. _

 

_ “I know, you only want to protect me but I am sure it will be fine. I will not be seeing another human any time soon, so there won’t be a problem.”   _

**-It will never be fine-**

 

_ His white face flashes over and over in their mind, so many times they heard him speak. So many times they kept having the same conversation.   _

 

_ “One day, when we are free, you will be able to see the sky with me.”  _

_ Every time it became harder to listen.   _

_ “I want you to show me the stars on the surface!” _

_ Until it became heavy. _

_ “When we reach the surface…”  _

_ It became crushing. _

_ “Beyond the barrier you can show me the sun and the clouds...” _

_ They were drowning. _

_ “We can go anywhere together…” _

 

_ All they wanted _

_ All you wanted _

_ Was to be free _

_ Free to live _

_ Free to choose _

_ Free to die _

_ Free _

 

_ Flowers running through their hands… _

 

_ …falling… _

  
  


_...falling into darkness… _

  
  


_ Burning inside red lights. _

 

_ Looking up and seeing the sky again, his voice is crying out inside you… _

_ This is not what he wanted for the both of you. _

_ But you can’t find it in yourself to care because you are finally  _ **_free_ ** _ …  _

_ …and soon enough…they will all be too… _

 

_ You see it again for the first time in so many years. _

_ The sun turning the sky red with either dawn or dusk... is utterly beautiful.. _

 

_ Then you see them…humans take their aim and you are torn asunder… _

 

_ Into pieces…  _

 

_ Pieces falling down into the flowers….. _

_ Golden flowers in your pale hands pouring down… _

_ You pour into them just like you poured them into you…… _

_ They are filled by you… _

_ Just as you are filled by them… _

 

_ And you scream in victory or in terror. _

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always! 
> 
> With this the intrigue is slowly starting to get stacked into a neat little pile, hope you're still reading by the time it all comes down, it's going to be fun. >:]
> 
> Please bear with the slice of life-ish set up (domestic tag?); the action, comedy and drama bombs are looming just over the horizon, I swear it...because they're already written so yeah. Bombs will be dropped when they are due.
> 
> Hope yer here for the next one!


	10. Lesson in kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of an ex-Royal Guard Captain.

   


There is a buzzing from his phone, a thrum of music with a fast-paced beat. That is definitely not his alarm, but it’s even better to wake up to that sound time and time again. He stretches towards the bedside table, pulling out of the covers feeling rested and contented.

“Good morning, you beautiful creature! How are you this morning?”

“Oh darling, I’m so glad you picked up. I was hoping I could at least hear your voice before you left.”

“Really? I was actually hoping to  _ see _ you before I left. Is anything wrong?” he can literally hear the pout from here.

“Well…Yes. The flight was delayed, weather and other such nonsense. We took forever to land just waiting for all these other planes to get out of my way! I’m still at the airport, plus traffic and your job; I won’t be able to catch you till dinner.”

“That’s perfectly fine, we can just wait until I get home. It should be more than worth the wait since I have something special for you.” he says playfully.

“Oh really? Well, I really hate to break it to you, but it can’t possibly be any better than what  _ I’ve  _ got in store for  _ you _ .”

“Is that so? I guess we’ll see at dinner tonight.” he says with a chuckle.

“I guess we will, sugar-skull.” 

“Guess what?”

“Hmm, let me guess, you love me right? Don’t worry, I love me too!” a delighted laugh comes through his phone, it makes him smile. 

“Oh, that was low.”

“Was it? Or are you mad because you wanted me to say it back?”

“Not necessarily, but that was still below the belt, you know.” he says, trying to play coy right back.

“Interesting choice of words there; trust me, love...you’d  _ know  _ if I was below your belt!”

He laughs loudly at that, unable to come up with a proper retort.

“By the way…Papy…” the voice purrs.

“Hm?”

“I love you.” A loud kiss and he hangs up. 

  


Papyrus shakes his head, a big smile still stuck on his face and gets up, feeling ready to take on just about anything. After his morning workout and grooming routine he begins to put on his uniform. The nearly painted-on black undershirt, crisp beige shirt, black pants, blue tie and fingerless leather gloves. He polishes his shoes and brushes his fangs until they are both gleaming. He looks great, as he is, but today he is shining because after such a long week he will be able to see Mettaton again. Plus he gets to do what he loves for a living: scare the everliving crap out of young delinquents...for educational purposes of course.    

  


He arrives at the facilities, greeting all his co-workers with explosive enthusiasm and watches the juvenile delinquents walk out of the changing rooms in their inmate uniforms through the cameras, lost misguided children. Humans and monsters alike, already looking sullen from the orientation. He is proud of his guards, as they are doing a good job of being both instructive and threatening. The kids are about to exit into the yard with the prisoners, that’s his cue. He leaves the surveillance station and heads to the watch tower, climbing onto the rooftop and making sure the sun is at his back.

“Aren’t you gonna show us around? Don’t they pay you to babysit us?” Says a girl with false bravado, probably hoping the guards won’t just leave them alone in the yard with the real inmates. 

“Oh we don’t have to watch you here, the warden’s gonna watch over you kids.” Says Rosa, excellent guard that she is. 

“The fuck you talkin bout? That skeleton guy from TV? Are you kidding me!?” the speaker is a fairly tall young man with a dark expression, he doesn’t dare approach the guards, but doesn’t back off either.

“I’d watch my back if I were you, warden don’t take shit from anyone, especially little punks like you!” says Tony, he’s still got two years left.

“He could try.  _ I’m  _ not an idiot, I’m not gonna get caught like  _ you _ dumbshits.”  A female monster, obviously powerful despite her small stature, is the only one who seems at ease. A perfect target. He cackles loudly and they turn to him, blinded by the sun or by his own radiance, who can say?      

“That’s where you are wrong little one! For you see, I have already caught you!” he announces loudly.

She moves with amazing speed, her hands unraveling like bandages, cutting into the yard like swords. Definitely been in some battles before, this one, but she isn’t quick enough. With a flick of his hand her soul is blue and the weight keeps her in place, legs shaking with the effort to stand. 

“GREETINGS NEW STUDENTS! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! Now that I have your undivided attention we may begin your training!”

“Begin what? The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” A slim teenage boy this time. 

Papyrus turns to him, as the monster girl struggles to free herself, extending her arms like blades towards his face. Without even glancing at her he parries every blow with his basic bone attacks. 

“Ready to begin your training as guards of course! As I always say: ANYONE CAN BECOME A GOOD PERSON IF THEY REALLY TRY! And what better person can you be than a Guard?” 

They stare at him dumbfounded, too stunned to reply. The guards nod along knowingly from afar. 

“Allow me to explain. To me a Guard is a kind and strong monster or person, who does their best at what they love and never hesitates to stand up for what is right! They are helpful to others and take care of those weaker than themselves!”

“What the fuck?”

“This is even worse than the commercials.” mutters a red headed boy. 

“Mind your language please. I’d rather not have to throw you a bone just to teach you some manners.”  He says, the light in his eye sockets glinting dangerously. They shuffle their feet without really walking away; some still frowning and trying to seem unimpressed, but that will soon change. 

“GOOD! Now, come along, we have much to do and so little time!” he walks away, expecting them to follow, right through the throng of prisoners with the monster girl still floating behind him. All sorts of men and monsters, covered in scars, tattoos and an unnecessary amount of muscle part before him, greeting him and shaking his hand occasionally.  The teens walk after him until they reach the only open expanse of grass of the grounds, which is set up with what appears to be an obstacle course, military style. 

  


“Now...we have to make the best of the time we have together! Do you know why?” he turns back to them, they still don’t reply. A bone materializes from thin air and he twirls it in his hand like a baton, as he paces before them. 

“No? Then I’ll tell you, please listen very carefully: I want this to be the last time I ever see you wearing those inmate uniforms! I will do anything _ … _ and I mean ANYTHING” he snaps the bone over his thigh, both shattered ends glow and extend into deadly sharp points. 

“To make sure you don’t EVER come back here again.” he stops in front of the teens that stare at him tensely. “So LET’S BEGIN with some warm-ups!” Just like that the magical weapons dissipate, the monster girl is on her feet and he’s back to smiling and showing them how to stretch properly.

  


They warily follow his instructions, all but that tall kid with the harsh expression who is being stubborn again, refusing to try to touch his toes. That simply won’t do, Papyrus helps him along by flinging a bone awfully close to his face; kid bends down so fast his hands nearly touch the floor. Later one of the older teens, a boy with dark, cropped hair and a scar on his cheek interrupts his instructions.

“What the hell…would you even know?...You got money and a house… What makes you think you can judge us?... We got nothing! So we do what we gotta do!” he says between gasping breaths. 

“You don’t have money so you steal it from other people who worked to get it? How is that fair? I have money because I have a job and I work extra hard at it! Nobody gets to choose what they’re born into but you can choose what to make of it!” Papyrus replies, continuing to demonstrate how to do a squat properly.

“The hell do you know bout working hard, you’re famous and shit…” mumbles a chubby girl, doing her squats and scowling at them all the while.   

“I am famous, now, yes; but before I was just another monster Underground. I had to train every day for years to become the Captain of the Royal Guard! I had nothing at first but I worked hard to make it where I am today, JUST LIKE YOU CAN IF YOU TRY!”

“It ain’t that simple! Man you don’t get it…” The chubby girl exchanges a look with at a quiet girl wearing a long braid down her back. The girl with the braid pauses her movements to look up at Papyrus.

“Even if we did our best we won’t get out of the holes we live in, people don’t get to be rich and famous by getting a job. Only way to get out is to get rich quick or to just fight your way out.”  

  
“I understand, but do you really think that you will reach fame and fortune on this path? That you’ll live in peace by stealing and fighting others? There are only two places a path like this will lead to: Jail or death...or both if you’re particularly unlucky. That is why  _ they _ are here.” He makes a sweeping motion towards the prisoners in the yard, the teens stare in silence. “They are here because, just like you, they made a choice. THIS IS YOUR CHANCE TO CHOOSE SOMETHING DIFFERENT! So don’t let it go to waste!” Papyrus pauses to let the words sink in, before deeming them stretched enough to take a shot at the course. 

  


They go through the obstacle course alone and he clocks them. Only two or three out of twenty manage to make it to the end. He then instructs them to go through it together as one big team, watching as they struggle at first but running alongside them and encouraging them until they eventually find ways to cooperate. After various tries they all make it through with a few minutes to spare; sweaty, beat up, but looking accomplished. 

“I think that was a commendable effort! YOU WORKED WELL, TEAM! Now, I can see you all quite upset about many things. Most of you come from the projects here and some of you from the city. You are unhappy with the way things are and want to change them. But so far the way you’ve chosen to go about making these changes is weak at best. I want to-”

“Weak? Fuck you, I’m not weak!” A long haired male, the only one to have weapon charges present, speaks up. “I got the balls to go after what I want, unlike some people who just sit there and keep letting other people step on ‘em. I was born in the shits but I’m not gonna die in them, and if I have to ice a couple people to get out…then I will.”

He sounds awfully cold for such a young kid. The other kids are intimidated by him probably because despite not being the oldest or tallest of the bunch, he’s the only one who seems actually capable of killing anyone. Papyrus raises a brow bone amusedly and belts out a long, sarcastic laugh, he looms over them even as he bends to hold his ribs in choreographed mirth.  

“I see human...let me tell you where  _ I _ came from. I was born under Mt.Ebbot , trapped in an overpopulated cave because of something that happened before I was even born. Trapped in there, all the monsters I knew grew more and more cruel. The only humans I ever met, tried to kill me...and eventually so did the monsters I used to call my friends. I fought nearly every day...beat everyone in my way, until I became the Captain of the Royal Guard. I was one of the strongest monsters in the Underground…and  _ even then  _ I couldn’t break the barrier. Not one of us could.” 

They stared at him, awed at the new details to the story.  He continued in a lower tone, walking up to them, pausing in front of each and every one looking at them in the eye, until he came to a halt in front of the boy who had unwittingly fed his tirade.  

“So you think you are strong? Strong enough to kill anyone to get what you want. You think strength comes from money or from how many people and monsters you kill? No; real strength comes… from kindness.” he opens a hand that flickers with magic, materializing a few small bones above his palm. “It’s easy to break things, to hurt others. ” Papyrus shatters the bones to nothing inside his fist, taking a knee to be on the teen’s eye level. “But to be kind…  _ That _ is the most difficult thing to do. That is what I am hoping to teach you, friend, if you would let me.” he offers the boy his hand.

  


The boy looks stunned for a moment before he frowns and slaps his hand away, following with an uppercut to the jaw. Papyrus lets it connect and stands, cracking his jawbone and rubbing his chin seemingly unfazed. He then steps back to stand ways away from the kids, regarding their surprised and amused expressions.    

“Oh I see, would you like to fight? If you think you can beat The Great Papyrus, then please give it your best try!” he says spreading his arms. 

   


Driven by thoughtless frustration the kid makes a dash for him, feigning a punch before sliding the last few feet into a kick aimed at Papyrus’s knee. Papyrus simply lifts the targeted leg and twirls on his free one, letting the kid skid to a halt before gripping his soul with magic. He raises his long skeletal claws and pulls him off the ground to struggle in the air in front of the other teens. They stare wide-eyed, some swearing and others calling out to the guards, who watch the show with grim amusement.      


“But you see,  _ friend _ ...if I were to truly fight you, I would not waste my time with guns, or throwing bones at you.” He pulls the young man close, seeing in his eyes some of his own old bitterness reflected back. “If we truly fought each other I could just take your soul and  _ shatter _ it, and it would be easy...Do you know why?” The kid doesn’t reply, scowling fiercely at the flames in his eyes. 

“Because you are mean and selfish and it makes your soul brittle. On the other hand if you were courageous enough, or kind enough, your soul would shine so bright...that even after your body was broken I would never be able to even scratch it. What kind of soul do you think all of you will leave behind if you continue this way?” he lets the teen down gently, placing his hands on their shoulders and bends down to look at him in the eyes.

“If you don’t try to be the best that you can be, then you will stay stuck in that place you don’t want to be in. If only I had been kinder, I’m sure I would’ve gotten out of there a lot sooner.” he looks up at all of them now. 

“I BELIEVE IN ALL OF YOU! THAT YOU CAN DO BETTER! If I didn’t I wouldn’t have even wasted my time coming here today. I want to give you a chance, to show me and yourselves that you CAN do better. So go out there and be the best you that you can be and maybe someday…someday you’ll be as great as ME!” he cackles proudly as they all groan tiredly. 

They will be here for another few days, but the program would last a few more months. He would help them look for suitable jobs for their community service, and eventually help them clear their records, but all in due time. The boy at his side looks shaken, but also in deep thought. He can’t stop the feeling of pride rising in his chest and why would he? He is indeed proud to make all these teens realize their true potential, that they too can one day be just as great as The Great Papyrus!

   


   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I really liked writing this chapter, Papyrus and Mettaton, are very easy to write for me which at first came as a huge surprise.
> 
> There are hints of the story origins from here on, but the story starts fifty odd years after the barrier was taken down. This is the main reason why their attitudes have shifted over time, as they've moved on from what happened Underground, each in their own way. 
> 
> Hope you stick around to see more of this as it develops, because it's gonna get oh so good, and oh so hilarious. 
> 
> Until next time. n_n


	11. A Common Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Frisk are getting used to living together and the slight changes that come with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff goes a long way...especially if it's a preamble to a lot of drama and angst. Enjoy! ;]

 

  
  


Before Papyrus takes his lunch break he makes sure everything is running smoothly, the guards report everything is in order and feeling reassured, he makes his way to his office. He heats up some left-over bowties from yesterday, licking his chops as he stares at the bowl spinning inside the irradiation machine. His phone begins to vibrate with messages, it’s him. He smiles as he eats and texts with Mettaton, when a sudden jazzy tune interrupts him. He frowns at Sans’ picture on his caller ID, surprised he’s calling at this hour. 

“Greetings, brother! You don’t usually call when I’m at work…is everything alright?”

“Heya boss, I’m doing alright, how’re you doing?”

“I am doing excellent as always! We got a new batch of recruits today! I used the old blue magic trick on them, worked like a charm! NYEHEHE! They all look very promising. Some of them would make great additions to the guard. And you, what have you been up to, lazybones?”

“Heh, give it  _ arrest  _ Paps, not everyone wants to be a cop. I’m good, it’s a bit slow today at the store, but that’s fine. I needed to ask ya somethin’.”

“I can't tell if that was a pun or not, but sure, ask away! Right after you tell me what is going on with you.” 

“I’m just tired, got a lot on my mind.”

“You always do, but this is different.” Papyrus says matter-of-factly.

“Look, I called because I think I might need to borrow some cash soon… for a few trips Underground.”

“Few trips? You’re not staying over? You could just stay at the house, I’ll restock the fridge for you! Also you still haven’t told me what is going on.” He says with annoyance this time.

“I’m not gonna stay that long I’m just…” he gives a weary sigh.“ I found someone in the ruins, someone from before the barrier and-”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No, no I got this, bro…I don’t need you to come here.” Sans voice is tense.

“I didn’t ask if you needed me to come over, I asked if you wanted me to. Because I want to, you sound awfully upset. But...I know you can handle yourself. I’m sending you enough to get you there and back, and a little extra to spend on yourself. Be careful...and Sans?”

“Yeah?”

“Call more often!” he yells reproachfully. 

“Uh…kay boss?” 

“Not ok!” he says, chewing a mouthful of pasta in his maw angrily.

“…Sorry, must’ve forgot where I keep my  _ tele-bone _ .”

He barely hears Sans laughing on the other side over what’s left of the spinach bowties hitting the ceiling.

 

 

Back at his apartment Sans feels a lot more relaxed. It had been a tough morning since Frisk woke up in the middle of the night screaming from another nightmare. That night he walked into a room filled with floating motes of light gathering on the ceiling, their magic filled the air with trembling desperation. Despite learning some basic cooking skills with Pete, they hadn’t really used magic for anything else, so at the moment, it was nothing more than shapeless energy.

They rambled about monsters and humans and dying. About the feeling of being pierced by many weapons. He soothed them as best he could, but couldn’t discern if they were talking about their memories or if it was just a regular nightmare. When he turned the light on he saw a trail of flowers, blooming right in front of his eyes. He stared in frozen horror as it festered from their eye and around their head. Toriel’s words rang in his mind, he needed to get them to Alphys, perhaps sooner than later. They noticed his gaze and reached up to touch their head. He held their hand away, but they understood, seeing as even the flowers on their hands writhed and multiplied.

“Please…help me take them off.” They begged shakily.

He sat with them on the bed for a long time before he could muster the courage to touch them. When he did, he did so gently; slowly reaching out with his claws and petting their skull. Swallowing his fear he curled his fingers around the biggest bunch and pulled. Frisk didn’t resist and seemed to feel no pain as he picked the plants away. He stared at his hand in fascination, unlike the motes of magic that dissipated when they calmed down, the blossoms were solid, not made of magic like he suspected, but actual living plants. These weren’t created by their magic, nor were they part of their body, these were...something else.

 

Sans carefully picked every flower from their crown, placing them on the bed as they stared back with a teary eye. He doesn’t dare touch the flower inside their socket so instead he moves on to their hands, holding them while he took the intruding plants off. He picks their arm and neck clean, until eventually they lift their shirt to reveal their ribcage, tangled and crowded in blossoms. He gulps nervously, not only because it strikes him as inappropriate but because the sight is kind of wretched, even if they don’t seem to be in pain.

He hesitates, looks back at their face, their pleading eyes. He can’t let them go through this alone, not this time. “Let me…let me know if it hurts, alright?” They nod slowly, trustingly, making him feel even more shaken.

He slips his hands in with theirs, careful not to head to the center where he can feel their soul fluttering. Very slowly he helps them pick the flowers out until his bed is covered in a small pile of buttercups. He hesitates not wanting to leave, but not wanting to leave the flowers over their bed either. Instead he pulls the trash bin over with a flick of magic and sweeps them in, before placing a hand on their shoulder. 

“Thank you.” they say, so quiet he almost misses it.

“ 'S alright, ‘s just a nightmare. Everyone gets those sometimes...Being in the Underground wasn’t easy for anyone.” he says, the lights in his eyes softer.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” 

“Have nightmares like that?” their eye is sharp, as if unwilling to let anything slip under another joke or laugh, so he concedes.

“…I get ‘em too, sometimes.”

They nod knowingly and use their free arm to place it on his shoulder. He feels a strange sense of familiarity towards them, but is also intrigued that he can’t read them as well as he thought he could. They stay like this a while before he suggests they go downstairs and watch a movie. This one is very old, a fantasy movie;  beautiful visuals but too much dialogue. Soon enough Frisk nods off against his shoulder, he eases himself from under their body and puts a blanket over them. They finally beat him to the couch.

 

 

After some napping he got ready for work, made some waffles, walked Pete upstairs and jumped through the void, last waffle in hand, to the alley behind the electronics store. He walked in still chewing and buttoning up his shirt, just in time to punch in. The boss looked at him unimpressed, still trying to figure out how he kept getting there barely in time. He called Papyrus during his break, hoping against hope his brother would give him some time to deal with this before popping up like he always does. Finally as his shift ends and with everything somewhat resolved he takes another shortcut home and knocks on the door.

 

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” Frisk answers playfully.

“Police”

“Police who?”

“ _ Police  _ tell me the food’s ready.” he walks in with a tired grin.

Frisk shakes their head, feigning annoyance but with a faint smile on their mouth. They don’t look too shaken up at least.

“All these years and still those don’t get any better…It’s a shame.” Pete says from the counter, probably one of the few pieces of furniture in the house that can hold him. 

“Flowey says the same thing. Anyway food’ll be ready in a few minutes.” Frisk says, blocking Sans as he tries to sneak a piece of meat from the skillet. 

“Looks pretty done to me…” 

They swat his hands and he gives up with a shrug before going upstairs to wash up and change. By the time he’s downstairs again the food is already served. They eat calmly, then argue which movie should they watch next, they have a list by now of everything they think Frisk needs to watch. Tonight it will be horror movies, in the spirit of Halloween, since they agreed to stay in this year. Frisk get to choose between what Sans and Pete suggested and tosses a coin to pick, Sans huffs in protest before setting out to make some popcorn. 

“I think Sans really likes having you here, it’s been years since I saw him so… energetic? What’s the word? It’s happy and busy mixed together... do you know what I mean?”

“I don’t know…I still have trouble remembering what he was like before…but he does seem busy.” Frisk sips their drink unsure of what to say.

“Oh, right, sorry about that. What I mean is he always seemed to be kinda dragging along, not really enjoying himself. He got this job a couple of years back and it keeps him busy, it’s just that now he seems busy in a different way. Don’t tell him I told you, but he used to just go back and forth between work and home...sometimes he’d go to Grillby’s with us to drink or something, but other than that the only time he went anywhere was to visit his friend’s grave. He’d be there every week, I tell ya.”

“Oh, I see.” They stared fixedly at the screen to avoid his eyes.

“Not that it’s a bad thing to remember your friends, but letting it take over your life like that, just ain’t right. He still visits but it’s already been awhile since the last time and I’m glad he’s moving on…Just saying.” he finishes noticing their discomfort.

“Stop talking their non-existent ears off, Pete, yer gonna drive em’  _ nuts _ .” He says handing Frisk a huge bowl of popcorn and a bowl of mixed nuts to Pete.

“Never mind when I say your jokes ain’t getting better…they’re getting worse.” 

“Shut it, Pete, eat yer nuts.” Sans pours him some nuts and Pete barely catches them , grumbling as he chews. 

Frisk scoots over so Sans sits beside them, they hold the bowl on their lap, occasionally feeding Pete some popcorn. They feel suffused with junk food and good company by the time they make it to bed. But when they close their eye, apprehension fills them, as they feel the pull of sleep take them into another fractured memory.    
  
  


 

During the next week they meet with Sylvia again, Sans seems awfully irritated about something when she mentions a trip to the Underground. From what Frisk can gather she found out by a third party and the way Sans glances at them makes it seem as if they weren’t supposed to find out either. Flowey seems oblivious to the tension, in his excitement to take Frisk back Underground. So when they are alone with Sylvia, they review the memories they’ve regained so far, concerned at the growing dissonance between them and reality.  

“Why do you think that is, Frisk?”

“I’m not sure…the way I saw Toriel in my mind felt real but when I saw her in person it just didn’t add up…”

“Did the memories have anything in common with her in real life?”

“Well she looks the same, kind of. I recognized her, her voice is just like I remember it, but she didn’t act the same…”

She taps the tablet and then her chin thoughtfully. “It's understandable, a long time has passed. How do you feel about these two impressions you had of her? Compare them, here, write it down if it helps.”

She hands them a clipboard, luckily for Frisk writing and reading were nearly impossible to forget, even if it was still difficult to coordinate their smooth, skeletal fingers to hold pens steadily in place.  They noted she’d placed a rubber grip on this one and cast her a grateful glance while they listed the characteristics that defined each iteration of the people they’d met.

They shared their notes with Sylvia, accompanied with some helpful doodles she smiled at. She suggested they record their memories, perhaps start working on a journal or a blog.

“I’ve also had some…odd dreams. Every now and then I have these really clear dreams and these thoughts…like I’m someone else for awhile, like it’s their thoughts I can hear and they really, really  want to get out from the Underground. They feel desperate, just like I was, but they’re  _ different _ …I feel like I’m trapped in their body until I wake up and then I’m trapped in mine. I can’t  remember everything about who I was and I don’t remember much about anyone else either...but these dreams…they’re the most  _ real _ thing I have and I can’t stop thinking about them.” She frowns slightly, thoughtfully.   
  
As they unravel, the truth will eventually emerge. Sylvia doesn’t know yet what this will mean for them but she has a pretty clear idea of what it will mean for Sans. She is sure that neither him, nor Flowey have completely shared with her what happened Underground; but she figures that Frisk death may be related to their freedom in some way. That alone is enough to explain their unnatural attachment to their memory. Regardless, whether or not this person really is Frisk, will become apparent as their memories return with time. She hopes that when those answers do appear, Sans will be ready to accept them.

 

“Do you think…there’s something wrong with me?” they ask suddenly.

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with you Frisk. What I do think is that you’ve gone through a lot, and whether or not you remember it, it does affect you. I recommend getting an appointment with Dr. Alphys, she’s Sans friend and I’m sure that with enough time she can help rule out any medical reasons that may be affecting your memories.”

“Will that help me get them back?”

“ It’s a necessary step, and if the cause of the problem is physical, yes. Either way in this process your memories might be stimulated by things you see around you, or people you meet. You can revisit those places with Sans and Flowey’s help, whenever all of you are ready. Writing down what you remember and what you dream about will also help you keep track and eventually make sense of things…But I repeat, it will take a lot of time and a lot of patience. So, please, give yourself that time.”

She tries not to sound like a broken record, but at this moment time is what they all need. The possibility of them finding any answers soon is close to non-existent. For now, all she can do is hope that time and support will be enough to prepare them to accept whatever answers they find in their future.

  
  


Frisk leaves the office feeling slightly jarred but definitely lighter after talking with her. Sans takes them around town for some grocery shopping and Frisk ends up taking a cooking book along, since they are hoping to widen their repertoire past breakfast food and plain pasta. As if he were in on the entire thing, Flowey leaves them a present, wrapped in brown paper on Sans’, and now technically, their bed. It’s a book, bound in soft leather with a string tying it closed. Frisk opens it curiously, finding only blank yellowed pages and gives him a questioning look. 

“It’s for you to write your thoughts down. Sylvia usually tells us it helps...Besides, you really like stories so maybe this could be a way to start your own.” he says hopefully.  Frisk walks over and wraps their arms around him.

“Thank you, Flowey, it’s great!”  they feel his leaves pat their shoulder and they rub their cheek against his petals. Unlike with other flowers, they can feel his petals faintly brushing over their skull, tingling with Flowey’s magic.    
  
When Toriel comes to take her son home, she brings them some more books too. It seems all the chat conversations with Flowey were not in vain, as she had chosen stories they definitely found interesting. Fantasy novels, a history book, fairy tales and something they’d never seen before: stories written by monsters. They couldn’t help it and asked if they could hug her too. Their small body nearly disappeared between her arms and they couldn’t help but feel a childlike comfort in the exchange.    
  
Later that night while Sans is busy repairing some phones, Frisk watches in wonder over his shoulder. The precise way in which he types into his computer and lifts the delicate mechanical parts with his magic; disassembling them slowly to then put them back together. Faint music plays off his computer into the room and in the soothing quiet they take the other desk by the window to start their journal, passing the loose notes about their dreams into its pages in neat writing.

  
__ Sept. 12, 2075   
  
The first dream I remember was mostly dark. In the middle of it all I saw their face, covered in freckles, it was familiar and very pale, their eyes were red. It was a deep red. They are talking to me and it feels important but when I woke up I couldn’t remember the words. Only that I felt glad when I woke up. Or did they feel glad?    
  
They were smiling like they wanted me to take their hand? I haven’t heard anyone mention them. Maybe they were from the surface, like me?    
  
Either way, I was glad we met. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOT! Another chapter, now things will start getting really good. 
> 
> Again, love writing Papyrus, even if he's not may favorite character he's too fun to write, Underfell or no. It hasn't been explained yet in depth but there's going to be an explanation for how each of them became, well Underfell. In this AU they may not have necessarily started out that way and that's something I definitely will get into, later.
> 
> So stay tuned and as always thank you for reading!
> 
> Undyne and Alphys are coming up soon...


	12. Always raining somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if you're miles away it always seems like you're right...here.

 

 

Weeks pass them by again but the conversation about the trip back to the Underground gets postponed more and more often. Frisk doesn’t fight it, but Flowey is losing patience and just like the first few weeks of the two skeletons sharing the apartment, there is an unwelcome tension between them.

Unspoken, their true intentions wind in other directions, Frisk keeps pouring time into their research about the last fifty years and writing in their journal; whilst Sans brings more and more repair work to finish at home. Jazz and the sound of the movies Frisk watches take the place of conversation. Pete is not there every day, instead he passes by twice a week, usually talking about a monster called Laiza who by now, Frisk assumes is his girlfriend even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Frisk is patient, persistent even, in giving Sans their time. So they don’t push the subject or question his reluctance, because they think they understand. They speak with Sylvia every now and then, she offers them advice and gives them exercises to sharpen their memory, but all these do is make it easier to remember their dreams and not discover new things about their past.

They dream about the pale faced human, seeing things through their eyes, they look down to see their freckled hands instead of their own; they talk to their brother, seeing monsters and people from another time and another place. All these dreams are crisp, fresh and vibrant. Despite the bitter emotions they contain sometimes,  they are the clearest images they have inside their head and so Frisk ties them down into their journal with their words, while keeping their voice silent.

  


Many miles away in the Southern American continent, on the seaside of Imbassai Brazil, an iridescent figure looms over a group of men and women.

“Put some more back bone to it! ¡Pónganle ganas!” their booming voice growls at them.

They furrow their brows and push harder, muscles rippling, sweat pouring and hearts pounding. Another monster picks up a hand drum and pounds a stick against it fiercely, keeping pace with the music as they go through their exercises again. They finish up and split into pairs to spar, a man walks up to the mestre, who acknowledges him with a curt nod, their only visible eye glinting menacingly. They share a greeting before beginning their graceful and deadly dance. They swirl in a circle, not exactly touching but not exactly avoiding each other. They don’t aim to damage but they don’t hold back either and when their bodies meet there is a mighty sound.

The music ebbs away, and in the last notes the man does a handstand, legs coming together as if to slam down upon the monster; but he twists at the last second to land and throw a back kick. The monster is crouched low, turning into the kick as if to dodge, before gripping his leg as it passes them. The monster’s body spins with the momentum of his kick only to double back sweeping him off his feet. He falls with a loud thud on the sand causing a booming chorus of laughs to rise from his fellow students.

“Algún día te podré tumbar…algún día que no sea hoy.” he grunts, making the monster roar with laughter as they effortlessly pull him to his feet.

“¡Te veré algún día entonces!” The monster grins wide, revealing multiple rows of sharp triangular teeth and pats his shoulder heartily.

  
The students and mestre salute one another and leave to hit the showers. The monster waits until they all file out, packs the radio set and mats, plucks all the aromatic torches from the ground and throws them over a shoulder. She carries everything back to her truck and takes a quick shower herself, her lean, muscled body is peppered with scars from finned head to webbed toes. Unable to help it, she runs her hand over a particularly deep scar on her arm. Her fingers feel around the swirls of gnarled skin and fine scales, the bite mark runs over both sides of her forearm, deep enough to have also scarred her _soul_. She never looked at it if she could avoid it, but when she lingered on the scar on her arm, the other could not help but ache in return.

 

That evening after recording the latest training video for her students and taking yet another shower; she lingers on the back porch of her house, watching the rain pour down and sticking her feet out to meet it over the grass. The aching compelled her to reach out again, perhaps to ease the pain or to reignite it, she isn’t sure anymore. She idles with her phone and eventually hits the call sign, staring at the birds scurrying out of the rain as it rang.

 

“Hi.”

“H-Hey.”

It’s awkward and painful but she still has hope.

“It’s been awhile, how have you been?” she starts.

“I-I’m doing alright, lots of work, you know how it is…”

“Yeah, it’s tough, but it’s fun too. How is the company doing?”

“It’s doing well, still keeping up with the, um, competition. And you?” they answer uneasily.

“I’m good, still living here, still beating humans and monster folk into proper shape. I’m still making videos every week, it's…nice.”   
  
“I’ll bet…”

 

They seem uncomfortable and she remembers with regret this is still a touchy subject. They argued over this, it still hurt, she realizes, berating herself for not really doing anything all that different even after all these years. She tries again.

 

“Hey I heard a new Puella Magi series came out, not a reboot like last time. Do you think they’ll make another Mew Mew Kissie Cutie, if we give it a few years?”

“Uh I rather they didn’t, that sixth movie really ruined t-the timeline so it would be impossible to make anything else, out of it now.”

Wrong again, she fiddles with her facial fin, half glad they are not doing video calls with each other anymore.

“Yeah, they’d just mess it up, better stick to the classics, right? I mean look at what happened to DBZ!... So, is there anything new you’re working on?”

“Yes, we are, um, working on a new mainframe design for the HC-ID’s; to make them smaller and more versatile with magic, some monsters still have a hard time using them.”

“Yeah I get that. You’re doing all this to help everyone, that’s so cool…wait, does that mean you’ll be in america anytime soon?”

“I-I guess I will, yes bu--”

“That’s awesome! I’ll be in Florida next month for the Capoeira tournament, I could just, you know, hop on a plane to where you are and we could...catch up over lunch?” she proposes excitedly.   
  
They’re quiet for a moment but before she continue, they reply in rapid fire, with a shrill tone to their voice.

“…I d-don’t think I’ll be able to. I don’t know if I will be free by then.”

“Oh…that’s cool, I guess. I can stay a few months and wait till yer done…You can gimme a call and let me know when you can hang out.” she suggests, even her optimism wavering.

“I don’t think I can, this is going to take more than a few months.”

“That’s ok, I can just-”

“No. Please don’t. I...I d-don’t want to see you, Undyne!”

So there it was again, no way around it. She let out a short, bitter laugh. “I get it. We can talk some other time then.”

“Sorry…I didn’t want to be mean or anything, I just...I don’t think I can see you right now.”

“Even now, huh?…I get it, you don’t have to say sorry. But could you at least give me another chance? I just want to talk to you.”

“You can talk to me on the phone just fine. I just don’t see why you have to see me in person!”

“I know I can, I just think it would be better to talk in person…I have things that I want to say to you, face to face.”

“I think you already said enough. We’ve already said what we needed to and I don’t want to t-talk about this now, I’m sorry,t-take care!”

 

The rain pours down relentlessly and she leaves the phone on the balcony, letting the warm drops patter on her scales. The water drawing lines down her cheeks allows her to pretend for a moment that her eyes can cry to express the sadness that still lingers here. She knows that like a wound, the fact she continues to re-open this painful chapter makes it so that she can never truly heal from it. Undyne understands this with her mind but her soul still craves the remnant of a connection with her former partner and settles for the hurt as a reminder of the space they used to occupy there. She shakes her head and goes back inside. Sometimes the lies she tells herself are the most cruel ones she can tell.

  


 

On the other side of the globe, sitting on a novelty stool a short, reptilian monster sits, breakfast  half-eaten and hands cold from nerves fidgeting with her phone. The sudden vibration of the device and the loud sound it makes startles her into dropping it on the toast. She sighs with relief soon as she sees the round white face next to the text message on the screen.

 

(Oi Alphys, is the sun still up over there?)  ＼(￣O￣)

(Yes, it just came up.)  ヾ(＾∇＾)

(My bad, where you sleeping?)  Σ(￣ロ￣lll)

(No I’m just eating breakfast. How are you?)  ( ^-^)_旦””

(Doing alright, can you talk?)   (・_ ・；)

(Sure, I’ll call you right now!)   (＾ω＾)

 

The phone starts ringing in her before she can even get to the contact menu, it must be something urgent. In her voice there is trepidation, Sans knows something is troubling her, he knows what might be the cause. But he understands the fervent dedication with which people who feel powerless can cling to their secrets. So he doesn’t pry, instead he asks for her help and makes her laugh as best he can. After all, to be there and offer some quiet understanding: that’s what friends are for.

Sans hangs up, feeling lighter somehow. Though he knows that keeping his feelings buried is bound to backfire at some point, he can’t help but feel relief in sharing an understanding. Over the years he has gotten better at facing things about himself, but even now it is something of an instinct to try and tether the things he feels, so they don’t wander off without his permission. He goes back to his regular things, even attempting to clean some of his clutter so that Frisk doesn’t have to clean everything themselves. Isn’t it ironic, he thinks; to be so secretive, yet so curious about other people’s secrets? as he holds Frisk’s journal in his claws and considers taking a peek inside.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and especially for being patient. 
> 
> I have recently acquired, then lost a job; refocused myself and decided to pursue a career in the arts. So I have been too busy, you can also add the fact that I refuse to publish things that are half-assed and you have the reasons why these are late. I am very sorry about it and will try to be on point next week.
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoy reading this and that you stick around for the rest! 
> 
> Also Bilingual Undyne is the best Undyne, because only Spanish can hope to convey her irrevocable PASSION!  
> Y por que se que se escucharia super mala en espanol XD


	13. Persistent Procrastination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When life has something to teach you, it will throw you a lesson. The more you refuse to learn from it, the harder life will throw it back at you, until you either learn from it...or break.

 

 

 

After a few weeks it was safe to say Frisk’s cooking had improved, compared to Sans’s quick grillings, it was a gourmet feast as far as Flowey is concerned. Living together had become commonplace, though occasionally they are still surprised at the simplest things. The strangeness of their body, the mystery of magic, monsters and humans living together and just how much how things have changed yet somehow stayed the same. Technology doesn’t necessarily advance people’s capacity for acceptance or thought, new cultures and fashions don’t necessarily make big differences in how people live their lives. In the end it seems like the world keeps on spinning even when you feel like you’ve stopped.

Every other night they still dream about that person, they talk to the white furred monster child, they die a little. The difference is now the dream no longer scares them, instead they try to take in every detail, just to put it into words when they wake up. Last night they gathered flowers to make a tea. Frisk remembers vividly the sweet, yet acidic taste that slowly made their body numb and their vision darken. For a while after they close their eyes they can hear their brother crying over them, feel him carrying their body. They open their eyes, see the human village, the torches lighting, the crowd forming, well aware of how the rest of the dream plays out and accepting their death calmly, knowing they will wake.

Once awake, the bulk of their day is spent reading; they avidly devour all the books they can find around the house and spend the rest of their time on Sans’ computer. They keep looking over all the various versions of the story about how the barrier was taken down; The Angel mentioned in it only a character in a strange tale instead of an answer. They also use their time to pursue simpler questions; like how their body works, the different types of monsters and the latest Mettaton show, or movie, or series. 

During the few hours in the day when they are completely alone they also take the time to dig deeper, into things that swirl in their mind at night, barely letting them slip into the vivid colors of their dream. It’s at those times when Frisk looks for evidence of their current existence, an explanation or a reason. It’s at those times they ask themselves who they are and what it is they want to do. But in what they read they find little to nothing relevant and eventually steer off the subject of their identity with the same persistent procrastination Sans often uses on them.  

 

 

Contradictorily enough, this time, Sans keeps the conversation with Alphys secret for an uncharacteristically short amount of time, enjoying the way Frisk’s face lights up when he tells them. For the next few days, getting their ID is all they can talk about, and he wonders how their life would’ve played out if they had remained human. Then again, at least they didn’t live through those first years after the barrier fell, it’s enough to have lost so many of his acquaintances, seeing them go through that would’ve been unbearable. Later that afternoon they sit in the livingroom, movie mostly ignored in favor of coming up with things Frisk could do once they have an ID.

 

“You could stay up past yer curfew.” Says Sans hogging the popcorn bowl on his lap.

“I have a curfew?”

“Don’t listen to him, he just wants you to go to Grillby’s and drink with him! You could get a job and buy a car!” says Flowey excitedly.

“They can take the bus Flowey, they don’t need a car to get around.” Sans grumbles.

“I’m not saying they need a car, I’m saying that maybe they want a car!” he retorts.

“I can get a library card, and yeah, a job.” they say smiling, whilst eyeing the popcorn meaningfully.

“Uh yes, that too.” Flowey tones it down to lean against them.

“Ya could watch an R rated movie.” Sans says, finally passing the popcorn and stepping out to bring some ginger ale.

“Why does he have to try so hard to be a trashbag all the time?” the flower says almost to himself. Frisk laughs at that, Flowey doesn’t seem to find it as funny. 

“We can also get ya one o’ these.” He waves his phone at them.

“Wait, I need an ID to get a phone?” They say confused. Sans sinks next to them on the couch.   
  
“Technically this  _ is _ yer ID.” Sans flashes the plastic backing of the phone at them and the image of his identification appears on the surface like a hologram, instead of a photo there’s a 3-d image of his face and shoulders that rotates in place. Frisk stares curiously, eye darting over the information. 

  
**State ID  
number: 11136410                                                                                                                                                                                                           ****Authorized C class driver**  
Given name: Sans the Skeleton 

**16 Mulberry St. Downtown/ Jackson WY**  
  
Sex: M  
HGT EST: 5’1”  
WGT: 97

**Eyes: 2-Red**

**EST-DOB: Jun 26 1967**

**MRate: 4.13/10**

  
  
“Woah, you’re old!” they blurt out.   
  
“Jeez pal, way to try an get under my skin.”

“I didn’t mean, I just didn’t know t-that’s when…”

“Heh I’m messing with ya…’s an estimate. ‘member we kept time different Underground. We age slower.”  he shrugs.

“I read about it, sorta like dog years, right?”

“Woof?” he growls, a brow raised. 

“You know that’s not...It’s a little over three human years to make one monster year. So, how old does that make you?”

He scratches his chin thoughtfully; unable to help it Frisk peeks under his jaw, still fascinated at how the bone of his lower jaw connects to his spine so seamlessly. 

“That would make me thirty in a few months, but who’s countin’ amirite?” 

“Then, I guess you  _ are _ an old man!” they say, this time egging him on.

“This old man puts up with ya so ya better not take him fer granted.” he pinches their cheek bones in his claws.

“Then how old does that make me?” his claws slacken with surprise, but don’t let go. He is getting used to the kind of questions he’d rather avoid.

“Alphys can help us figure that out. But if we’re going by monster years you’d be about 5 years old or somethin’, so you might wanna re-think the whole movie thing until yer old enough, kid.”

“That’s-but I remember being older...as a human I mean.”

“They’re right, when we first met, Frisk was almost an adult. So that means they were at least eighteen years old, doesn’t it?” Flowey says, eyes glued on the movie.

“See? That’s definitely old enough to watch an R movie!” 

“ ‘S that so?” they try to nod while he tugs at their face.They play around until finally he lets go. He slumps back into the couch, letting them take his phone to look at it.   
  
“How does this work?” they try to swipe the screen into motion but it only shows a window saying ‘Emergency Calls Only”. 

“It won’t let you, it's tuned to my magic.” They look at him intently to prompt him. 

“It's synced to magic so monsters can use the thing even if they don’t have hands and all that. There’s also a setting that doesn’t let other monsters use it.” he explains.

“What else can it do?” they ask.

“Thing’s basically an all in one, you got a phone, TV, computer, credit card and ID.” he takes it from them and thumbs idly through the menu.

“Wait so if you lose it, it's pretty much like losing your wallet, cellphone and computer?”

“Heh, not exactly, all yer info gets backed up into the ports at yer house and some of it on the cloud You lose it you gotta buy another one, but yer info isn’t lost.” Frisk eyes the charger port on the table with wonder, before going back to read his ID. 

“Wait, what’s this M rate thing and what did you have to do to get that score? Did...they make you fight or something?” they ask.

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. They just measure how much magic you can make in like a minute or somethin’.”   
  
“Then how come you have a four? How is teleporting and lasers a four out of ten?” they say jokingly.

“Well, dunno if you heard this one; but it ain’t ‘bout how much you have, it's how you use it.” he says with a silly eyebrow wag. Frisk shakes their head in mock disappointment, pressing their mouth tight not to laugh. 

“Oh my god Sans, stop being such a trashbag! Leave them alone! Don’t listen to him, he was probably just lazy.” Flowey hisses, baring his teeth.

 

Sans goes back to explaining to them how the handlink work and helping them learn the basics. Despite his attempts to divert their attention, Frisk had paid close attention to his explanation. They notice the way he enunciates is so much clearer when he talks about things like this. He must be really passionate about these things in a more personal level that just his job. 

 

“Did you make things like this?” Frisk asks, turning the phone in their hands.

“This? Nah, Alphys made all of it I just helped tweak some o’ the programming.”

“That’s still pretty amazing.” they say frankly.

“Uh, yeah, I guess it is.” he looks confused for a moment before a loud noise breaks into the conversation.

“SANS! The credits are rolling change that thing!” Flowey screeches, startling Frisk. 

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’. Stop shouting, jeez…” He rolls his eyes and carries Flowey to the kitchen to take a much needed snack break.

 

Though it’s a little late for dinner they decide to stave off the excitement of the evening with cereal. A soon as they finish, Frisk does the dishes with Flowey; while Sans texts Alphys to confirm her arrival date and plan their visit. That Saturday they wake up to the renewed excitement of getting their ID.  Sans felt like the constant rain on their parade,having to curb their interest into yet another thing he’d been avoiding bringing up. 

 

“We’re gonna need to get you a new name, at least for the ID.” he muttered awkwardly.

“Oh, okay?...Why is that?” they ask.

“We gotta figure out, I mean-”

“What he means to say is that, it will be better if we get you a name that other monsters won’t recognize. Some of them...like my mom, still remember you.” Flowey interjected helpfully.

“And it's better not to draw attention to...what happened, I understand. Thanks, I hadn’t...I hadn’t even thought about that.” their voice is carefully neutral, almost cheerful. Their constant confusion is kept at bay by a wall of politeness and passivity. It’s painful to watch. 

“Frisk…” Sans can’t seem to find the words, but they can plainly see his concern carved on his brow and decide to move on.

“Okay then, let’s find a good name! Any suggestions?” They swing their legs that dangle from the couch playfully. Flowey pauses in surprise before smiling, he is always touched by how Frisk always tries to stay optimistic. So he plays along, closing his eyes and muttering some names under breath, leaves crossed. Frisk starts thumbing through one of their favorite books, eyeing the names they could take as their own.

“I think it should be something you like…like Jude, from that song? It’s a good song.” Flowey suggests, Sans frowns at him disconcerted. 

“It kind of sounds like ‘dude’, though…maybe something like Arin, or I could make one up from it…” They run their hand lovingly over the book. They notice Sans himself is holding a small worn book, looking fidgety. 

“What do you think Sans?” They ask eyeing him knowingly.

“Uh I had this old thing here an’ I thought you might wanna take a look…”

He wags the book in his claws as he walks closer, sinking into the spot on the couch reserved for him and Pete. They feel a certain fondness for how awkward he can be with these situations.

“Sure, what is it?”

“It’s a Font Catalogue. We skeletons use it to give names.”

 

They leaf through the book and are fascinated by the careful way in which it’s organized; like all old monster books it is entirely handwritten in a neat and steady script. Flowey is oddly quiet as he stares over their shoulder curiously, he’d never seen a book like this either. Pages filled with complex charts and diagrams; precisely replicated fonts from all over the world and from many different times. They see various names  that catch their eye but have a hard time understanding how to pick one, when there was clearly some method to it. 

 

“Can you show me how?” They close their own book and hand Sans the open catalogue.

“Uh sure.”  He goes back to the first page, and they shift closer to peer over his shoulder.

“Kay, these questions are what’ll lead ya to a specific font. Since the questions are about the baby skelly, whoever has the book usually stares at their soul to answer ‘em...in this case I’ll just ask you.”

“Okay, go ahead, I’m ready.” They give him a delighted smile. He glances at them doubtfully, then begins. 

 

 

The questions range from favorite food, to life choices and personal traits. It’s almost like a personality quiz and Frisk finds themselves enjoying it, particularly when an answer comes easily. As if reviewing their memories, was confirming their veracity with every reply.

“What color is the dominant shade in yer soul?” he mumbles. 

“I don’t really know how it looks… can’t you see it?”

“Maybe you could see it if you try, Frisk. Besides it’s a little too private to be telling him to look at it just like that!” Flowey says, head swiveling back and forth between them.

“Oh…I thought you  guys could see it whenever you wanted?” Frisk looks at them questioningly.

“Some monsters can, yer not supposed to stare since you only see it when yer fighting…and stuff.” Sans interjects, a small blush on his cheeks. Frisk frowns trying to figure out what it means, then it's gone.

“I’m okay with you guys looking at it, I trust you...So, what’s my color?”

“I’ll take a look, if you don’t mind.” They shrug and turn to Flowey, he narrows his eyes at their chest and after a few moments his face lights up. “It’s bright yellow and a little green on the outside. So I think that makes it yellow-green!” Flowey says matter-of-factly, while Sans makes a sour face.

“Is that bad?”

“No, Frisk, it's a perfectly normal color.” he says pointedly, Sans avoids them both, leafing through the catalogue. 

They sense another untouchable subject, but by weighing it against their wavering patience, they decide to cross the line. “Was it always that color?”

Sans glances up at them, diverting his eyes as he tries to find what to say.

“It...no it wasn’t.” the flower says finally, his tiny eyebrows making a knot of worry.

“Oh...does it mean something, the fact it changed colors, I mean?”

“N-not really! Souls change color overtime, no one stays the same their whole lives. It takes time, but souls always change...” Flowey says gently.

“Does it make a difference what color it is?”

“It depends, really. We monsters gave a lot of thought to what soul colors mean, but humans didn’t since they usually can’t see souls so who knows? Souls are the culmination of your being, but because living things are complex their souls can have many colors.”

“So that’s what the Soul Color Theory is then? I thought it was more like a horoscope, not something this...important.” they admit.

“It is, sort of, most monsters know about it but it doesn’t mean they agree with it, what the colors mean has been done a couple of times already. In the old version, at least, there’s 7 colors. In your case yellow is Justice and green Kindness.”

“Justice and kindness? But why is justice the main one? I don’t really feel very...justicey?”

“It’s not that literal! Yellow souls are monsters that look for...balance, you could say. You want things to be fair, but doesn’t mean you’re going to turn into Batman; it just that old timey monsters gave the colors the names of virtues. We had cyan for patience, yellow for justice, green is kindness, purple for perseverance, orange for courage-”

“Hey that rhymed.” Sans interrupted in a deadpan voice. 

Flowey frowned at him angrily, but even that gesture was forced and underlined with nerves. “As I was saying, there’s blue for integrity and red...for determination.” Something in his tone sent a cold feeling down Frisk’s spine. There was no need to ask what color their soul used to be, all those years ago.

“I read another one, but instead of virtues it was bad things? Cyan was sloth, green was for hurting yourself? What about those?”

“Yeah, that...It’s probably because after a while monsters started changing, so the colors changed meaning too. It makes sense, I mean sometimes bravery can be impulsive, patience can turn into laziness... and determination can also be stubbornness.” He finished, Sans growled low, marking a page with one hand and tapping the claws of his free hand on his knee.

“Ya done?”

“Let me ask Frisk.” Flowey huffs.

“It’s fine, I got the gist of it. Let's keep going.” they say patiently.

 

As the questions continue they become more at ease with themselves, enough to focus their attention on the other two. Their expressions are always shifting but what keeps bubbling back to the surface is Flowey’s encouragement and Sans’ distance. They each seem to have reached an agreement that Frisk could not quite understand. But in the end they made it to their page in the catalogue. A list of about twenty names that now hinged on a date.

 

“Yer birthday…” Sans mumbles.

“I...don’t remember the date. Can we just pick one?” 

“Sure! What date should we pick?” Flowey cut in.

“Can it...I want it to be the day we first met, this time? Does anyone remember when that was?” they ask quietly.

Sans blinks down at the book, mouth tightly closed while Flowey just looks at Frisk sadly. 

“August 27 2075.” he says in a low voice his claw tracing down the names until he reaches the correct one. He turns to them, Frisk gets lost in the bright red lights in his sockets that shift with feelings they still can’t identify. 

“Yer name’s Cambria.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was interesting to write, I think its around the time I started to give Sans more development. though he's the main character alongside Frisk, he's so secretive and stubborn in a way you don't get to see much of him, other than what you read into his actions. Though that's part of his charm I do want him to develop and grow, characters that stay the same through the entire story are boring and I want to make each character change as they mature, face obstacles and bond with one another.
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying this too, even if it's smutless adventure drama, its promise its the best kind. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you next time! :3


	14. Examination Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk visits a doctor to finally get their ID, there they discover some very interesting things about their new body...

 

 

That friday afternoon the two of them pack some snacks and take the train to a Kio-ryo labs facility, one of the many  established around the world since the monsters were integrated into human society. They will be meeting one of Sans’ friends there to give them the medical exam and fill in the paperwork for their ID. They can’t mask their excitement, boots tapping on the underside of Sans’ seat across from them. He stares out the window most of the time, but sometimes he stares at them and when they catch him, Frisk smiles, he bears his fangs back at them in a hesitant grin. 

They comment on the scenery and he does his best to explain where they are. The hours and miles fly by, another train and a bus later they are walking onto a crowded city street. The looming buildings covered in glass and the neat perpendicular streets are fascinating. Everything is so lean and flashy compared to the small town they live in. Frisk feels both dwarfed and filled with wonder; caught in the tandem of new sounds, smells and sights. Sans stops to buy some bagels from a street stand, the warmth from the snack’s magic dancing alongside the emotion fizzling on their bones.

The Kio-ryo building stands out from a few blocks away, though it is also quite tall there is something very block-like about the stout structure. Its beveled surfaces give it an almost plastic look, cream walls and blue green windows. The company logo is smack dab on the center of the entrance, a yellow lizard curled in on itself over a white background, like an egg yolk. Frisk can’t help it and asks Sans to take a picture of it, he complies with a low chuckle, making them stand in the frame to their embarrassment.

They walk up to the desk and are sent into an inner waiting room. A few monitors showcase the company's products and though they are familiar with them, Frisk feels a sense of awe at the fact they are going to meet the monster who brought all this technology to the surface. In a few minutes a tall and pretty monster approaches them slithering over the polished floor; introducing herself as one of Alphy’s lab assistants. Her body is covered in green scales, reptilian head hooded like a cobra, with a shockingly red tongue flickering between her equally red lips when she speaks. As she leads them into the medical offices Frisk tries their best not to gawk. 

The monster gives them a brief tour of the assembly and research areas before they take the elevator into the lower levels. They exit onto a long hallway with many glass and metal doors; but before they can enter the office, the assistant stops dead in her tracks. A short yellow monster is walking towards them, like most of the staff it wears a white labcoat with the company logo, except this one has no name tag. They talk to the statuesque assistant shily, barely able to look at her face before the snake lady turns back to them.

 

“Mr. and Mx. Skeleton, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the founder and CEO of Kio-ryo industries, Ms. Alphys Kyoryu.”

“It’s nice to meet you properly, Frisk. Hi Sans!” she waves her hand timidly at them.

“Hey, Alphys. Long time no see.” he waves lazily.

“Nice to meet you, too.” they hold out their hand and she takes it shakily, her scales are smoother than they look, if the way their bones slide over her hand is any indication.

“I-I was finishing up some repairs, which is why I’m...a little late.”

“Better late than never, lead the way.” Sans grins and pats her shoulder, she leans into him in a one arm hug before leading them into the office they would use. 

 

After showing them around the she sits to face them both across the low, minty green desk. Frisk trains their eye on her face and away from the images on the computer behind her, of anime characters fighting to the death with vibrantly colored results.  She notices their distraction and closes the video window with a blush. 

“Today I’ll be giving you a full evaluation. We’ll do the basic vitals: taking your weight, height, and t-then of course...your picture.” She says with a shy smile. “I also need to take a dermal sample, measure your magic output and we also can examine the um, flower situation.”

Frisk nods and smiles at her, bright eyed; simultaneously curious and frightened of what she may find. Alphys takes them into a more secluded area where they are weighed, examined and measured. At the point when they have to remove their clothes, Frisk doesn’t feel more than the standard mortification, they are sure she means no harm despite her crippling awkwardness. At least she gets on with the embarrassing parts fast, since she examines their bones thoroughly, but quickly. As they open the curtain, Sans throws them an encouraging smile, with the usual apprehension still stuck in his eyes. The doctor then questions Frisk about their sleeping and eating habits, taking notes on her tablet.

“I’m going to need your complete name, in order to um, fill in the documents for your Hand link, Frisk.”

“It’s going to be Cambria...the name on the ID.” they say evenly. Her eyes go to Sans and something transpires through the pointed frown he gives her.

They pick a common skeleton monster second name from a list she hands them. The doctor continues to question them until they reach the extent of their collective knowledge. From now on the information they glean will have to be directly from Frisk’s body. She brings a device from behind the adjacent counter closer, the heavy machine has an indented greenish screen with multiple dials underneath.

“I’ll be checking your wavelength now. You might feel a...slight tingle.”

They nod and she stands, connecting a wire from a stethoscope-like tool into one of the holes in the machine. She asks for permission before placing its end on their chest, moving it around until the machine makes an audible beep. She holds it there, a steady beeping marking the rhythm. The lines in the monitor draw a single wave every few seconds; it trebles, too far spaced to be a heartbeat, but it still makes their eye water.

“Is...is that my heart?” they blurt out.

“Well, more precisely, its your soul, Frisk. The machine measures the flow of magic in your body. Magic tends to fluctuate depending on emotion and on...how you use it.” She casts a glance at Sans but he’s idly thumbing through a bowl of candy on her other desk.  “I guess you’re a lefty a-at heart, huh?” she says with a nasally laugh as she holds the device to the left side of their chest, Sans grunts appreciatively. Frisk looks down at their chest, wondering why their soul is off-center.

“Isn’t that normal?” Beside them the machine beeps erratically, their nerves now plainly audible. She simply shrugs.

“Monster souls are usually centered on the body, but some have theirs a little more to one side or the other. Don’t worry it's totally fine! W-would you like to, uh,  _ hear _ its wavelength?” She says noting their unease.

“ You can hear what my soul sounds like?” 

“To put it simply, yes.  Every monster has a specific wavelength...they uh, vibrate to. You can hear it clearly when you use color magic. But not every monster can do color magic soo...that’s what we have these for!” she pats the machine heartily. 

They nod at her, completely enthralled and after she fiddles with the dials for a few moments a faint sound begins to spill from the machine. Though crackling with static, there is a single harmony coming from it in a continuous hum. Alphys turns a dial making the sound build up, clear earthy tones repeating, ebbing,  like a light fading in and out of the room each time it plays. It makes them smile in wonder and when they look at Sans, their eyes meet for just a moment. There is something odd about the way the red in his eyes flickers, letting some other, starry light filter out from inside. But then he frowns and the red flares back up like a wall, he turns away and it’s gone so fast Frisk is not sure what they saw.

 

 

After that they follow Alphys to a seat on the other side of the room. The counter around it is covered in rows of glass tubes with rubber covers of various colors. The shelves mounted above it are stacked with glass bottles and even more tubes. They recognize the blood drawing station from television, rather than experience. Whatever memories they do have bring nothing but a small, uneasy shudder.

“Please sit here and place one of our arms on the board. I will be taking your um, dermal samples now.” She says, putting on a pair of latex gloves with practiced ease. 

“Dermal? Like skin?”they frown in confusion. 

“W-well no, I….Sans!” She turns to him, the awkward curl of her lip becoming something close to a snarl. Frisk stares at her face, only just now noticing a scar running up the side of her mouth towards her eye. The ragged shape ripples with her lip as she berates Sans, her girly mannerisms at odds with the brutal mark on her face. She turns back to them and they snap to, trying to figure out what she’d said.

“I can explain it, if you don’t...mind?” she repeats.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“Okay…” she takes a steadying breath. “Complete medical examinations require a sample from t-the monster’s body. Usually deep tissues, since we don’t have blood. As you know when a monster is hurt the magic that holds them together dissipates and their body basically b-breaks down a-and turns to ash…”

They nod, their face plain and calm to show their attention is focused on her.

“The ash left behind has traces of the monster’s white magic and the physical components that don’t dissipate: like carbon, calcium and phosphorus, contain information a-about the body. With another type of monster I could just uh, use a needle to take a sample. “ She shows them one of the needles, its wide,sharp tip glinting evilly through its plastic casing, they stare at it nervously. 

“Needles to say it would just go right through them.” Sans mutters making her giggle amusedly, while Frisk shakes their head.

“In your case though, you don’t have tissues so we um, take a sample of your dermal layer.” She turns and glares at Sans pointedly, he shrugs lazily. Frisk doesn’t mind the lack of explanation, but is starting to get annoyed that in his stubbornness he’s also keeping practical information like this to himself. 

“I looked some information up online, I know it's what covers the bones...but I’m not sure I understand how it works.”

“Oh, alright, well a monster’s body is primarily held together by white magic, while the soul is made of color magic. For skeleton monsters that magic takes the form of three main components: the soul,  the bones and the dermal cartilage. The cartilage covers the bones and it's what conducts magic throughout your body and lets you feel your surroundings.” They sit and hold out their left arm, and she places a foldable desk bar under it. 

“You will be able to see it...on the um, scans later. The dermal cartilage covers everything but your claws and your teeth for, heh, obvious reasons.” Frisk nods at her and she continues, like Sans, her voice is much clearer once she explains things that interest her and they feel a sudden fondness for her.

“Inside your eyes and ribs you have the darker ‘internal dermis’, which is m-much more conductive but also more sensitive. I will be taking a small piece of the external dermis in your arm and use it to make the analysis. It might sting a b-bit…”

“That’s ok, you definitely know what you’re doing.” They smile encouragingly at her, rolling up their sleeves and she nods, a russet blush spreading on her cheeks at the comment. Over her shoulder Sans has his eyes fixed on them warily. 

She takes a small container and attaches it to a metal tool with a snap, its metal handle gleams, seemingly out of place with the hard plastic attachment at its tip. Frisk stares as she places it flat against the thickest part of their ulna, near the crook of their elbow. 

“I’m g-going to count to three, ok?”

“Okay.”

She counts down and then her clawed thumb quickly slides a tab on the handle upwards, inside the plastic tip they see a glint of metal before they feel a pressure sliding down their arm. The sharp stinging comes a few seconds after, when she removes it. A rectangular piece of the bone had been shaved out, barely an inch long and a quarter inch wide, like a small slot. They keep their mouth shut tightly as she pries the attachment off the handle and takes out a small plastic container from inside. 

The container is completely see through; inside it the rectangle of cartilage holds its shape for a moment before slowly crumbling, like the burning tip of a cigarette, into dust. Frisk glances at their arm, trying not to put their hand over the cut. Alphys fumbles getting a  bandage out of its wrapper, before placing it precisely over the cut. The bandage has tiny cats in dresses on it...nope, those are girls with cat ears, they realize with a smile. She hands them a piece of hard candy, round as a marble, urging them to eat. They pop the candy into their mouth, feeling it clatter against their teeth and cheeks, as the bubbly fritz of magic and sugar fills their mouth and tingles down their spine. 

“That should help heal your arm faster. Make sure you eat it now, so it doesn’t leave a mark!”

“Thank you, Dr.Alphys.” they mumble around the candy.

“Aw, it was nothing, really.”

 

 

 

After they’re done with the candy, they move on to the magic measuring process. She walks them to another part of the office behind a metal door that slides out of their way with a woosh. Frisk stares openly, marveling in the technology that is still entirely a novelty to them. There are machines hanging above them in a wide oval, at the center of the room there is a long leather chair, similar to what they’ve seen dentists have, except at the ends of the armrests this one has two metal cylinders. Now that they look at it closely, all the segments the chair is divided into have at least two metal indentations, as if something was meant to be plugged into it.

Alphys asks them to sit back, she sits on a small stool next to them and presses her short back legs against the pedals on the base of the big chair, making it lean into a half sitting position. As per her instructions they grip the metal bars at the end of the arm rests and let her place a sensor on their sternum to keep track of their soul. On one of the monitors above their head, they see their wavelength outlined again, they still can’t help but to think of it as a heartbeat. 

“Now Frisk, when I give you the signal I will start the timer and you will pour as much magic as you can into the handles. Don’t give it any shape, just, put as much as you can and I will tell you when to stop, okay?”

Frisk nods at her, a little uncomfortable despite knowing it won’t hurt. They shift their head and manage to see Sans on the other side of the chair, he gives them a half-smile and makes a joke, soon after the timer starts. They close their eyes, vaguely aware of Alphys’ murmured encouragements as they push all of the magic they can. They can feel it flowing from their chest and down their spine, building and rushing to their hands and feet. They urge their magic to focus on their hands and before they know it their time is up. They open their eyes to see the flowers on their arms writhing a little, multiplying as they use their magic. Alphys repeats the process at least three times, at which point they are already sweating and covered in flowers. They pull their hands from the metal, their fingers itching with magic. When Sans reaches out to help them out of the chair, their hands crackle with a static as they meet. 

“Don’t look so shocked, kiddo, yer magic is still settling. Ya should be fine in a bit.” he chuckles.

Alphys leads them back into the main office to take their picture. She taps some commands into her tablet and a small drone with a camera buzzes into the air from some unseen compartment in her desk. She asks them to stand still for a moment as the device flies in circles around them, a green light running from it up and down their face and shoulders. She makes them take several pictures until she gets ‘the most kawaii one’ and lets them sit while the ID is finished. Alphys finally retrieves the acrylic card out of a printer-like device, talking with Sans as Frisk stares at the ID, their ID.

 

 **State ID**  
number: 17740980  
Given name: Cambria the Skeletal

 **16 Mulberry St. Downtown/ Jackson WY**  
  
Sex: A  
HGT EST: 5’0”  
WGT: 85

**Eyes: 1-yellow**

**EST-DOB: Aug 27 1985**

**MRate: 4.84**

 

This was their ticket into the Underground, they think as they turn the thick, glass-like card in their hands, staring back at their own image as it spins in place on the surface. Sans interrupt their thoughts nudging them on the ribs lightly.

“Sorry, I spaced out, what were you saying?” they say.

“That we’re, I mean, I-I’m going to examine the...flowers on your body now if you’re, um, ready?” She gestures to the long leather stretcher against the main office wall. They hop on, still holding the ID close, sharing a look with Sans before they lay back.

Her shaky hands turn steady as they examine Frisk’s ribcage, taking a flower from their arm out with their permission and putting it in another container. With the flowers, as with the physical test, they won’t see the results until a few days, but she assures them she’ll keep in touch. Next she examines their eye, they glance at her nervously as she shines a light into one socket and then the other. She touches the flower lightly with a small instrument, they barely feel anything at all. With their permission she cuts off a small part of the petals and puts it away too. 

“...Interesting.” She murmurs.

“What is?” they ask, trying not to move.

“Try closing your eye sockets for me, please?”

They do so, self-conscious of the fact they can only close one eye. 

“Can you see anything...out of your right eye?”

“Um, no, just the stuff you see when you close your eyes.”

“What stuff exactly?” she says too quickly.

“You know, like all black but sometimes with colors in it and stuff, like when you stare at the sun too much and you close your eyes and still sort of see it there?”

“I understand...would you mind trying to do that now? C-close your eye and tell me what you can see.”

Frisk closes their eyes, trying to see any colors in the dark, covering their good eye with their hand to block out the sliver of light peeking in. There’s dark, but inside it there are those motes trickling from one side of their vision. They turn into it slightly and the colors become clearer, a soft yellow blob of light and a column of dark red streaming next to it. They relay the information, too deeply focused in seeing the colors to hear what Alphys is telling them until she shakes their arm.

“...K-keep your eyes closed, and look closer! Can you see...anything else?”

They frown and try harder. “... I see a ball at the center...like a brighter spot on the yellow, cloud? I dunno what shape it is, it’s kind of round...and it moves slower than the red, the red light looks like it's moving up and it's darker? Hmm no it’s bright too, I mean like, there’s something else going on with it...like there’s more colors in there it’s...blue?”

Alphys makes a high pitched squeak, making Frisk jump. They look at her and her face is glowing with excitement. She taps away into the tablet, mumbling to herself and leads them back to her desk. The three of them sit together as she explains.

“As far as I can see-” Sans snorts and she tries to glare at him before continuing with a reluctant smile. “Shush this is important! I think the flowers are not an immediate danger. Frisk is quite healthy the flowers don’t appear to be hurting them, just reacting to their magic...Besides, they shouldn’t affect your health because from what I can tell, they’re not part of your body.”

“Whaddaya mean?” Sans asks, suddenly serious.

“Well I-I’ll need to wait for the tests, just to be sure...but if the flowers were a part of their body they would just turn to ash when separated, like their cartilage did. Sooo that means they could be something else...right?”

“Yeah, we already knew that.” he admits begrudgingly. 

“Something else...like magic?” Frisk asks warily.

“Uh, I’m not sure yet. But I did find something else that’s interesting!” She fidgets for a moment, eyes shifting between them and Sans. “I think that maybe the flower o-on your eye...can see magic!”

“What?!”

“What?!”

Frisk spares a glance at Sans, who returns it with the same surprise, Alphys giggles at them and continues.

“What you described sounds very much like seeing magic, right Sans?” she pushes her glasses up her nose with an amused smirk.

“Uh, yeah it kinda does…” He scratches his neck vertebrae with a soft clatter, avoiding their eyes.

“Really? I...I thought that was...huh.” They run their fingers over the flower thoughtfully before glancing at Sans. They wonder if he can see things like this too. At least now the red lights they keep seeing before falling asleep make more sense.

“I’m just guessing, really, but it's what makes the most sense...I mean, most monsters don’t have biophotons since they don’t have optical nerves, after all. So it's odd for us to see much of uh, anything when we close our eyes.”

Alphys goes on to explain her ideas for a while until her phone’s ringing interrupts her. She is late for a meeting and says goodbye quickly, shaking hands with Frisk multiple times until her assistant comes by and gently ushers her away. Another employee leads them to the cafeteria where they have some sushi for lunch before leaving.

  
  


On the way back home, Sans seems oddly quiet, only this time Frisk doesn’t fill the silence, caught in their own excitement and thoughts. As they leave the train station Sans leads them in a different direction from their home, back into the mains streets lined with small stores. He leads them to the electronics store, ‘ID-all’ where he works. 

“Why are we stopping here?” they ask.

“We’re getting ya a Hand-link. Wasn’t that in yer list of ‘Things to do when I get an ID’?”

“Oh, right...well I was thinking I’d buy it when I get a job.” they say shyly, he just shrugs.

“How are they gonna call ya to tell you yer hired when you don’t got a phone? Don’t sweat it, I get a discount.” he winks conspiratorially trying to ease their apprehension.

Frisk sorts through the available models, following Sans advice since the devices all look the same to them. The rest of the evening is spent downloading applications and getting the hang of using their new handlink phone. They copy some of Sans’ contacts, mainly food delivery and his work. They talk to Pete for a few minutes to share in their excitement of having their own phone for the first time they can recall. Frisk then calls Flowey, who immediately friend requests them from every possible social media he can find. He is just as excited as they are, not just about being able to communicate more often, but also of the possibility of traveling back Underground. Meanwhile Sans watches from the sidelines, still caught in the sickening feeling of not wanting to let Frisk go back to the place where he nearly lost them forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's Alphys. Like all the other characters, since they've undergone the Underfell treatment, she has scars. Most of these have some significance which will be revealed later. Hope you enjoyed this chapter even if it was a visit to the doctor. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and hope to see you again!
> 
> :3


	15. Training Montage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans pulls out all the stops to delay their return Underground. Even if it means he has to be the one to give the tutorials...

 

With Flowey visiting more and more often the plans to make the trip Underground move faster than Sans can hope to contain them. The only thing that kept Frisk interested in staying was also nerve-wracking, so he chooses the lesser of two evils and continues to funnel their excitement into exploring their magic. 

That same week, they receive the results of the tests Alphys ran. Frisk seems to be in good health and the flowers appear to be harmless, merely plants that react to magic, similar to echo flowers. The only thing she was still trying to figure out was how the flower on their eye socket worked, but it would have to wait until she returned to America; for now, they knew just enough to relax. Sans then took that weekend to start their training. The three of them sit on the couch as he struggles to explain the basics of using magic to them. 

“How do you, you know,  _ see it _ ?” They gesture in the general area of their chest.

“Ok you kinda look at the monster’s chest, right? Then you ignore the outside an just kinda blurr it so you only see the insides…wait, that sounds-”

“Awful! Lucky Pete taught them how to cook. Don’t want to know how  _ that _ would’ve turned out!” Flowey says while Frisk tries not to laugh at Sans’ expression. “You have problems explaining things. Let me try something different.” he says in a more neutral tone. 

Sans nods with a bitter twist to his mouth that on anyone else would’ve become a pout.  

“Okay then, now Frisk. Turn to Sans and look at his eyes. Look at all the colors there…pay attention but don’t think too much, just reaaally look.” Flowey eases himself onto their shoulder, talking softly into their ear canal.     
  


Frisk does as they are told, focusing on the red lights floating inside the dark of his sockets. At first sight they are just  brilliant red, but the deeper they look the more they catch glimpses of other colors swirling inside. Deeper still, in what they thought was the blackness of his pupils... they could swear they saw blue. 

 

Sans stares back neutrally, hoping that his eyes won’t betray all the things he’s been feeling lately. The doubt, the fear, the longing and the sadness that sometimes ate at him: he wanted nothing but to bury it all deeply and out of sight. But more than anyone, he knew that if he repressed those feelings they would build up and tear the seams of his precariously built self. So he tried to convey something, anything good back at them while looking for some sort of sign.   
  


He took in their only visible eye, its soft light wholesome and serene. Probably because despite everything, they still were full of hope and kindness, he thought. Yet another part of his mind suggested fearfully that perhaps they were so clear-eyed because they couldn’t remember the pain they’d experienced. He caught himself looking for some sort of fracture in them and felt ashamed. Not just for hoping he could find a scar, but also because he was grateful they couldn’t remember, if only so they wouldn’t know how much he’d hurt them. 

 

“Oookay you can stop staring now, this is getting weird.” Flowey pushed Sans away by the shoulder, making them realize how much closer they were now. 

“Sorry, I was trying to focus.” Frisk laughed, scratching their forearm awkwardly.

“Good, that’s good! Now did you notice anything in the colors? It’s good to practice with a skeleton monster, with their eyes made of color magic and windows to the soul all that.” he rambled on.

“Color magic?” they asked.

“Yeah, there’s two kinds.” Sans muttered picking at his fangs distractedly with a claw, making Flowey frown at him in disgust.

“That’s right, Frisk. There’s white magic, like this!” Flowey hurtled a stream of white pellets at Sans’ face, which he blocks with a cacophony of clatters and continues to pick at his teeth petulantly.

“White magic is like making an object out of magic. It's solid, but if it breaks or you stop putting magic into it, it disappears. We’re gonna teach you how to give your magic shape later, right Sans?” he frowns at the older skeleton.    
  
“Sure thing, kid.” he gives them a lazy thumbs up. 

Frisk bombards them both with questions, and while Flowey relishes the attention, Sans keeps joking and giving roundabout answers. From the flower’s long rambles and Sans’ quips they are able to clarify much about how magic works. White magic being the simplest, like an extension of the body and color magic a more volatile and intangible form of energy. 

“What is color magic like? I mean, other than what skeleton eyes are made of, what can it do?”  

Flowey turns to Sans pointedly.  “No. I ain’t doing that here…It’s like what you saw Mettaton do on TV, or Tori’s fire.”

“Color magic is what Pete taught you how to use to cook, except some monsters can give it shape. But even without shape you can do loads of things with color magic…” Flowey says meaningfully towards Sans.

Sans rolls his eyes, then he points a glowing red claw at Flowey’s pot, covering it in its color and making it hover around, before placing him back on the couch with a plop.    
  
“Do you think I could learn to do things like that?” they ask excitedly.

“Hm, maybe. But you will need a lot of practice, it's tough, Frisk.” says the flower.   
  
“Can you teach me?”

“Gee...well you see I…”

“I can teach ya.” mumbles Sans. 

“I’d teach you if I could, Frisk, but I guess this smiley trash bag will have to do.” he says shoving Sans’ arm lightly. Frisk smiles at them, and pats the back of Flowey’s head. 

“Thanks...both of you, for caring so much about me, I really appreciate it.” 

“Yer always welcome, you know that.” Sans replies, returning their smile briefly before he finally gets off the couch.   
  


 

  
The three of them get some food ready and after they eat, they head to the roof to start practicing. Sans teleports back and forth around the house gathering unused things for Frisk to use as targets. Flowey insists on the ever-necessary empty cans and bottles, Sans struggles with his unwillingness to part with his old mustard bottles. They let him keep most of his hoard, settling for old cans and detergent bottles instead. Sans stands with them side by side, Flowey perched on the wall as the two skeletons face the row of makeshift targets.   
  
“ ‘Kay kid, Imma need ya to focus here, an stay loose. Pick one of the targets and pull magic from yer ribcage to yer hand.” He stares at a can and opens his left hand expectantly catching a bone as it takes shape from a white mass of magic.  He throws it with a lazy gesture but instead of it spinning end over end, like they expected it to, the bone flies in a straight line toppling one of the cans off the ledge.    
  
“See? Now lemme see ya give it a shot.”   
  


They stare at him, mimicking his wide stance, opening their hand expectantly, recalling the familiar tingling that surged from their core and slowly infused their hands when they cooked. They visualized a bone appearing out of nothing, yet they felt no different. Somehow Frisk couldn’t seem to push the energy past their fingertips, let alone turn it into something solid. They pushed even harder, stubby fangs grinding with effort.

Motes of light gathered on their hand but refused to separate from it, coalescing into a writhing mass of light fizzling on their palm. Frisk glanced at it and lost track of what they were doing completely, they gave Sans a bashful look and tried again.

“Give them clearer instructions you numbskull!” Flowey threw some pellets at Sans who swatted them away with his hand. 

“Fine, fine. Hey kiddo...come ‘ere.”

Sans stands side by side with Frisk and takes up a stance again. “Kay you gotta  _ feel _ the magic, feel it in yer bones and then  _ push _ it out through your hand.” he makes a gesture, demonstrating and they take note.

Frisk did as they were told, trying to tense muscles they no longer had to ‘push’. It only served to make their bones rattle loudly from the effort. Another set of pellets hurtled towards Sans, who side-stepped so fast he seemed to disappear for a moment.   

“If you put as much effort into teaching as you do into punning, Frisk would be able to throw something at you already! Move over and let me try!”

Frisk snickered softly, walking over and letting Flowey slither up their arm and perch on their shoulder like a bad imitation of a pirate’s parrot. With the missing eye and the makeshift parrot all they were missing was the peg-leg, they thought in grim amusement. 

 

“Alright, let’s do this properly. Before shooting anything, let’s sit down for a bit and close your eyes. Good...Calm your magic and focus. Somewhere deep inside, is your soul. Focus on it, feel the magic coming from it, from your center and into the rest of your body.”

Extending a vine towards their chest, Flowey gently pulls out Frisk’s soul, Sans frowns at him for being so forward, but the smaller monster shushes him with a gesture. Frisk sits still, eye closed and face relaxed, seeing through their right eye how the particles of light from their chest coalesce into their soul.  The faint shape of an upside down heart floats over their chest like a heat haze, Sans and Flowey stare transfixed.    
  


Flowey continues to gently murmur instructions to Frisk who now sits cross-legged, hands cupped around their shapeless magic. The white magic shifts languidly, bones and things that look suspiciously like flowers appear sporadically out of the milky surface. An iridescent sheen would pass over the white every now and then, a color caught between gold and red that Sans stares at hungrily as if there were answers written in it. It's only a few hours before the training leaves Frisk exhausted and they decide to leave it at that.

 

They continue to do this almost daily; Frisk works enthusiastically, driven by the excitement of learning something new but also of becoming more comfortable in their body. With the help of Sans, Flowey and occasionally Pete, Frisk becomes more capable of calling forth their magic, though they still couldn’t give it a shape. In truth, their housemates were sometimes more hindrance than help, as Flowey would argue that pellets were easier to form, while Sans insisted that bones were the natural things for a skeleton to make. 

Time allowed Flowey to win that argument; though in the end it wasn’t exactly pellets that Frisk made. They produced was a massive amount of round bullets, if you could call them that, since these things barely did any damage and seemed to float rather than fire rapidly towards the targets. Either way it was impressive how many they could control at once. After just a few weeks they finally managed to make something like a long, thin bone. It may have failed as projectile but it definitely could be used as a shield, which suited them just fine; despite their developing passion for magic they weren’t exactly fond of fighting.

Though Frisk may not have taken to the more aggressive aspects of fighting, it became apparent that they were quite something at dodging. Frisk and Sans had fun playing at dodging Flowey’s bullets, though Sans usually tired out sooner since his speed was half observation skill and half teleportation. Over time and despite Sans’ reluctance to let Frisk go outside, sacrificing two of his windows to their volatile magic did wonders to change his mind. 

 

Frisk would now go out during the day, spend a couple of hours in the public library, perhaps stop to get groceries and then return to the apartment in time to make dinner before Sans returned. They never could wander far, without him following, but with time he became more lenient. Frisk now made their own appointments with Sylvia, often discussing their dreams and doubts with her. Knowing that she was there for them was always reassuring, but it also drove them to try and find the answers for the questions Sans wouldn’t ask.    
  


  
Too soon for Sans’ taste, the distraction was no longer effective. Frisk was ready to speak about the trip Underground, but every time they broached the subject something would come up. Late night HC-ID repairs, sudden trips to the mall and today it was dinner with Pete. Here Frisk found their previous suspicions had come round full circle, as Pete invited them to eat with a ‘friend’. They couldn’t say no to him so of course they found themselves sitting across the two lovebirds with Sans. The other skeleton kept wagging his brow bones at them when Pete wasn’t looking and Frisk ignored him, in order not to laugh.

 

“Well I got tired of his punning one day and decided to prank him.” Pete said, trying to impress the small, pixie-like monster that sat next to him.

“Oh, what did you do?” she asks, throwing a curious yet nervous glance at Sans. It's hard for Frisk think of him as threatening, when they know how caring and outright goofy he can be; but with his claws, red eyes and sharp teeth, its not hard to imagine why anyone else would be intimidated.

“I put habanero peppers in his mustard.” he says proudly.

“Oh my god!” Frisk laughs at the thought, Sans just rolls his eyes. The monster, Laiza was her name, covered her mouth daintily with a wing.

“He just so happened to be talking to one of the guys at the shop when he took a sip, or more like a giant gulp and spit it all over their shirt! Then, get this, the boss walks in and everyone is waiting to see what he would do to us; but he just shakes his head and leaves. He was just so done with us at that point!” he finishes earning laughs all around, Sans shrugs.

“Boss couldn’t mustard the energy to give a damn at that point.”  

 

After the collective groan, they eat their dinner, listening to Sans’s and Pete’s anecdotes and enjoying each other’s company. The evening was pleasant but it is still unable to distract them from their goal. As Pete leaves to take the monster-who-is-definitely-his-girlfriend home, Sans and Frisk walk back to the apartment, Sans is still smiling and throwing jokes around. With the light atmosphere that the whole day had, they decide this is as good a chance as any.

 

“Sans, there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering...when are we going back to the Underground?” they watch his shoulders stiffen.

“...Thought ya wouldn’t want to go back...after what happened.” he grumbles.

“I  _ do  _ want to...I’ve wanted to this whole time. I think it’ll help me remember. It’s what I got the ID for, isn’t it?... I just want-I want to see what happens.” they try catch his eyes but he keeps facing forward and doesn’t say anything. When he does it starts with a sound between a scoff and a laugh. 

“Curiosity killed the cat kid, sides, you’ve been doing fine so far. No point in risking getting hurt over the details.”

“I’m not really a kid, Sans, I’m not doing this out of curiosity and no...I am  _ not _ completely fine. I still have those nightmares, I still don’t remember much of anything...about what happened or about myself.  I want to know as much as I can, and I need to do this. So,  _ please _ , can you help me?”

He stops, their spine is rattling but they don’t care if he can hear it, they hold their ground as he turns to face them. A deep frown shadows his eye sockets, the light in his eyes is nearly gone and for a moment they think he will raise his voice, or maybe cry, but instead he sighs wearily and pulls their hoodie over their head, ruffling it over their skull.

“I can take Monday off, going on a weekend would be suicide: death by tourist trampling.” he grumbles and keeps walking to the entrance of the building.

Frisk doesn’t know what to say, so they mumble a thank you and follow him, trying not to shout with happiness but nearly bouncing up the steps to the apartment all the same. That night neither of them sleep much at all, minds buzzing with fear and anticipation at facing their respective demons.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we know the awful truth, Sans sucks as a teacher. Unless it's about science he has no idea how to explain things, even more so when he doesn't want the person to know. 
> 
> Here things start to get sillier but the drama is still there. Don't worry, there are drama bombs in the horizon...specially since next chapter they finally return to Mt. Ebbot!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking around!
> 
> Hope you're enjoying it so far and let me know if there's anything you want to see or anything I can improve. Until next time!
> 
> ;)


	16. The long way down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return Underground is filled with old memories, new experiences...and a lot of misplaced nostalgia.

 

 

The Monday morning when they took the train to the mountain was unusually quiet, most people in the town were already at work and the increasing cold kept the streets relatively empty. Flowey stayed up playing video games and is now dozing off, wrapped against Frisk, who quietly packs all their food before leaving. They take the window seat, wearing their new jacket. They needed it to keep their clothes dry, but also because they didn’t like the look on Sans’ face when they wore his coat. Frisk wasn’t the same confused creature that left the Underground wrapped in his coat; and secretly they hoped, that even something as small as this, was a sign of more changes to come.

The compartment shakes with a rusty rattle every time they take a turn. Frisk fiddles with Flowey’s vines, glancing at Sans who sits across from them, napping against the wall. They gently nudge him awake to ask about the towns they see passing by. He replies lazily as always, dropping a pun or sarcastic comment here and there, but his smile today seems off and they can’t bring themselves to laugh along like it's all okay, so they let him continue to feign sleep instead.

After the train they take a bus up the mountain, through dizzying curves that climb up to the entrance of New Home, the place where the barrier was broken. Up until this point they never understood how could Sans sweat despite being made of bone; then they had to show their ID to the guard and finally understood exactly how a skeleton can sweat. Sans edged closer after they passed the gate and they waited for him to make a comment or a joke. But the skeleton gave the other’s shoulder a comforting shake and lead them deeper without much to say.

 

Upon entering the labyrinthine city everything melts away for Frisk, they only have eyes for the buildings and teeming shops, the colorful merchants and the crowds. They look around them in wonder, their feet urging them to rush in, but apprehension makes them turn back at Sans. For a second his eyes are empty, but in a blink his pupils are back and he throws them an easy grin.

“Lead the way kid, I’m right behind ya.”

They beamed at him, looking around and choosing a street to head towards before doubling back to grab him by the sleeve and pull him along. Together they wander for hours on end, deeper into the Capital, eyeing wares and the irresistible foods sold at every corner. Frisk keeps stopping to take pictures and had them practically tied to the book vendor’s stall. Sans insists on carrying their bags, giving them space to look around. Flowey chatters with excitement, steadily leading them deeper, like a part of Sans wishes he had the guts to do.

 

“Man, those look really good...what are they?” they point at an elaborately decorated pastry stand.

“Those are spider doughnuts...made with real spiders.” says Flowey.

“What?!”

 

Flowey shrugs and points at the small label under the basket full of doughnuts. Frisk eyes the snacks nervously, but sees nothing out of the ordinary. They smell delicious and the only spiders they can see are made of frosting; so they order a few, figuring it must be a marketing ploy. They sit on a nearby bench and take an experimental bite, Flowey just puts the entire doughnut in his mouth, munching loudly. It’s rich, nutty and unexpectedly savory for such a delicate looking pastry. The magic in the doughnuts is sharp and sweet, they hadn’t had something this delicious since Toriel’s pies. Sans hasn’t taken one yet and eyes them thoughtfully.

“Careful with those…” Sans grumbles at last, they stop, nearly choking. “Might give you the sudden urge to wear red and blue spandex.” he barks out a laugh at their expression before he eats one and they resume their walk.

 

 

After stopping at MTT Resort for some more pictures they head deeper, nearly reaching the border of Hotland. The temperature is rising and the narrow alleys between brick buildings are replaced with wider cobbled paths and low stone structures. Frisk continues to look around, gathering some supplies for their impromptu Thanksgiving dinner next week, while Flowey makes frightening faces at Sans behind their back. They both know Frisk is not likely to remember much after Waterfall, what with being blind and weakened, but Sans is not ready to take them there just yet.

Soon after Frisk stops at a small plaza to rest, they sit down and drink some water, patting the space beside them. He grinds his fangs together and sits,  regretting the words before he even puts them together.

 

“Hey kid...I was thinking we could take the ferry to Waterfall it, I mean…”

“That’s a great idea Sans! Save us some time. Besides it's a place Frisk might remember more.” if Frisk notices the sarcasm in the flower’s voice, they don’t comment on it, as they finish the bottle and follow Sans to the docks.

 

They sit on one of the many boats that now run through the canals, wind whipping loudly as they speed by. Sans can’t help but to search their face for a hint of recognition, caught between the desire to be remembered and the desperation for his wrongdoings to be forgotten. Once in Waterfall everything seems quieter, despite the tourists and residents milling about, the usual noise is lost in the constant dull roar of the waterfalls around them.

They wander deeper, Frisk marvelling at the glittering crystals that dot the walls and cobbled paths. This time they don’t take any pictures, not just because it’s dark but because they are too distracted to. Flowey talks softly in their ear canal, leading them through narrow passageways, away from the boardwalks and into the old trails. Here the crystals pulsate, fade once they walk past; here it is quiet and dark. Sans tries to stay close and almost as if they could sense his fear, Frisk reaches back to grab his sleeve before continuing. He lets them, constantly surprised at their casual selflessness.

They enter a chamber, filled with tented kiosks selling trinkets, clothes and souvenirs. The floor of the cave  is riddled with small puddles that have tiny shards glowing at the bottom. Flowey and Frisk are inevitably drawn to the stores and Sans follows them grumbling to himself. With their hands fuller and their accounts emptier they are making their way out when a voice calls out to them.

 

“Skeletons! Flower prince, come ‘ere!”

 

They all turn for a second and see nothing, they are about to resume their walk when Frisk feels something tugging at their jacket. They look down to see a short, aquatic monster, it’s appearance that of a cross between a jellyfish and a squid. The monster can’t seem to stop bouncing around and has a stream of bubbles coming out of their transparent head.

 

“Oh, hi.” they say shyly, Sans moves behind them, placing his hand on their shoulder.

“Don’t worry your skull thin, mustard skeleton, I’m not taking them from you.” She says, looking up at him, to reveal a wrinkly face with huge, closed eyes. He frowns at her suspiciously but before anyone can say more, she pulls Frisk into a nearby tent. “Come, come, I’ll give you a good deal.”

Sans sighs wearily, exchanging a look with Flowey, they’re both already used to every marketing ploy this place has to offer. Both their patience and their accounts are wearing thin.

“Come, sit, get comfy. Better enjoy it while it lasts.” she smiles at Frisk who smiles back awkwardly and sits on a cushion next to an ornate table. They stare curiously at the heavily patterned fabric of the tent and the crystal mobiles dangling over their heads, while Sans sits next to them, arms crossed skeptically.

“Now, I need to see your hand, give it here…No, no, sweetie, the other one, the writing hand.” When their hands touch something like static startles them. They are struck by a feeling of familiarity, as if they’ve known each other for years. They glance at her face, she grins knowingly, showing a perfect set of white teeth.

“How much, lady?” Sans interrupts.

“...Oh no, for this special one, the reading is free. For you, I would ask you give me...that which you hold most dear.” she says mysteriously.

“Creepy lady.” mutters the flower in their ear.

“ It will cost you that one bottle of Kosciusko, you have there.” she points at his chest.

“Cosi-what?” Frisk asks.

“I knew it!….That’s gross Sans, I thought you said you didn’t do that anymore.” Flowey heckles, earning the middle finger.  “She means the mustard he’s hiding in his ribcage.” he whispers to Frisk. She holds out one hand at the older skeleton insistently, clearly enjoying poking fun at him.

“N-no way, lady.” Sans says, crossing his arms firmly over his ribs.

 

She laughs then turns back to Frisk, pulling their hand close to her face. Suddenly one of her eyes snaps open, so wide it looks as if it might pop out; her nearly translucent eyelids peeling back to reveal a ringed iris with multiple shades of blue. They try to pull away for a moment but their hand seems stuck to hers, pulled by the static of the magic she’s generating. They can almost hear it, a distant ring, like a rusted bell from a ship at sea. The flowers in their hand multiply and creep closer to her, trying to wrap around her hand.

 

“Oh sweetie this will be difficult for you...Very soon you will meet a friend, but their life will be...taken. A hunter is coming after you, they are determined...fueled by fear. You will have to run away...I can’t see when you stop, but you’ll be running for a long time. Too many times.” she says, slowly.

“ Who’d try to hurt my friends? What do you mean?” they ask. She shakes her head softly, eye closed once more.

“It will hurt a lot when you remember...but try to learn from it. When the time comes: you have to face truth and it hurts...but I believe in you, sweetie. ” She sounds genuinely sad as she pats their hands. She pulls away, sagging in the cushions and breathing hard, she then nods at Flowey. “How bout the little prince, does he want a reading?”

“No thanks.” he says with a fake smile. “ Let’s get out of here, Frisk this old lady is creeping me out.” Flowey mutters close to their skull.

“As you wish old bean! Take care, sweetie! I must get ready for running too, so good bye!” She bounces back up on her tentacles and shoos them out of the tent, waving her long, sleeve-like hands at them in farewell as they walk out. Frisk waves back, still reeling and Sans herds them out of there as fast as he can; thinking to himself that some areas of the Underground are best left buried.

Farther ahead they climb up a set of steep stone steps, their sharp edges and brighter coloring indicating they are a recent addition to the path. Just past the stairs a small monster with a fish-bowl on their head sits on a long stall, selling only umbrellas. Sans picks two, muttering something rude and they press on, rain pattering softly on their new umbrellas.

“How is it raining down here?” Frisk asks, wonderingly.

“Gee, I don’t really know! It’s always raining in this part of the caves; except the umbrellas used to be free…” Flowey grumbles under breath and Sans scoffs in agreement.

“It’s a river, kid. Somewhere ‘tween here and the surface is a river; water filters down from it through the rocks...like rain.” he grumbles, coming closer.

“That’s amazing.” Frisk says smiling at him, he hums his agreement. They tilt their umbrellas, sharing the space under them as they walk.

 

 

They emerge into a quiet corridor, at the end of which sits a stone statue, hunched over itself as water keeps pattering softly on it’s head. Frisk runs their hands over its surface, tracing closed eyes and a small muzzle. Even though the same can be said about many other things in their current life, Frisk can’t help but think there is something decidedly magical about it. There is also something melancholic but very much alive about the figure; and when they lean closer a soft bell-like sound seems to emerge from the stone.

It startles them but they don’t back away, transfixed by the sounds they recognize as a song. They stand still listening as the gentle metallic sounds mingle with the rain pattering on their umbrella. The melody is so familiar, because they once heard someone else humming that song. As it comes to an end, slowly starting over they are finally able to look away. A cold bitterness fills them, they close their eye to try and gather the thoughts but they slip away, a gentle squeeze on their arm and they turn to Flowey. He is smiling at them, a sad smile. They feel like he understands, but even worse, that somehow, he knows they can’t remember.

Frisk opens their mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He stares at them for a moment longer, his smile is so gentle, they consider saying sorry, but before they can say anything he turns to Sans.

 

“Hey bonehead! Frisk and I are hungry!”

“Ya just had doughnuts.”

“That isn’t lunch! Unpack our sandwiches, we need real food!”

“I thought sandwiches weren’t ‘real food’!” He makes quotes with his claws, bending down to glare at the flower’s face.

“It is now! Because we are hungry and Frisk’s sandwiches are better than all the over-priced, greasy, tasteless-”

“Ok, ok! I get it jeez, let’s just find somewhere to sit down.” he says, rolling his eyes.

 

The three of them walk farther in, until they reach an old looking plaza. Shops line the various corners of the passageways and a small playground can be seen from here. Children, both human and monster play together, their laughter muted by the rumbling of water and music coming from the stores. The friends sit on a bench in front of a small fountain, enveloped in the soothing environment.

 

“Where to next?” Frisk asks.

“Hmm...there might be enough time to go to Snowdin if we take the ferry, it’s going to be crowded. Do you mind?”

“Not really. It shouldn’t be a problem, right?” they turn to Sans, he looks tense again.

“Dunno. It’s kinda late, it's gonna take awhile to get in...we might not make it.” he replies tonelessly.

“I thought it was going to be a slow day? Hmm, we could take a quick peek and come back another day to  Snowdin, dont’cha think?” Flowey gives him a doubtful look, but doesn’t push the matter further.

“That sounds like a good idea. We can take our time then, right?”  Frisk looks between them.

“Yeah, sounds good, kid.” he sounds as relieved as they feel. Seeing him so resistant only serves to feed their growing curiosity, but they don’t want to worry him any more than he obviously is.

 

 

They look around the plaza before heading in the direction of the ferry, only to find it packed. It seems the approaching holidays have reached Snowdin early, and the boats are filled to bursting, the lines to buy tickets reach so deep into the cavern that they can barely see the ferry in the distance. They double back as it’s getting late but before they make it out of the plaza, Flowey stops them.

“Old-school monster candy! Come on Frisk, you have to try these!”

“I thought Toriel didn’t let ya anywhere near those. What’s she going to say when she finds you’ve been binge-eating again?” Sans says smiling evilly.

“They’re not for me, they’re for Frisk! Besides, it's probably one of the few good things out here. They can just take them home and eat them later.” Flowey replies all too reasonably.

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Sans doesn’t seem to have the energy to argue today and let's Flowey hiss and mutter at him all the way. The store is shaped like a long narrow hall, shelves on both sides cover the walls from floor to ceiling in an explosion of colors and shapes. The flower stops its tirade just to gawk at all the magic sweets hungrily. There are names and treats Frisk doesn’t recognize, strange flavor combinations they didn’t even know existed and they feel the sudden urge to take one of everything, just to see what they taste like. Maybe Flowey has rubbed off on them.

In a corner some teenagers laugh and banter as they shuffle through a spinning display, where some teardrop-shaped treats are hung. A loud clatter on the opposite side makes Frisk turn to see a small monster with a red mane, wearing an apron with the store’s logo. It's legs are straining as they try to heave a box of huge egg-shaped candies onto a shelf. Frisk is approaching warily as the employee teeters atop the step ladder, when a girl trips on it with, before pushing her way past the skeleton.

 

 

The ladder wobbles and with a startled cry the monster topples over, not before pushing the precious box onto the shelf. Without a thought Frisk catches them, falling back into a basket full of sweets that spill around them. Flowey’s curse as he’s flung from his pot becomes a delighted squeal when he falls head first into the pile of candy. They hear the teens laughing for a moment, before the box above Frisk tips over the edge of the shelf. They summon a few thin bones that hold it place, but can’t keep the huge candy eggs from tumbling out. Flowey, Frisk and the monster worker yell as the eggs stop right above their heads, glowing red.

 

“Told ya those doughnuts would give ya spider reflexes, but ya didn't listen.” Sans winks as he puts everything back in order with his magic and helps them up.

“Thank you, mister. You’re a lifesaver alright.” the monster says, bowing their horned head to Sans. Frisk stares at them more openly now. They’re reptilian, like Alphys, except his face is flatter and his scales lighter.

“No prob.” Sans shrugs and walks off, hands in his pockets.

“And you too, I’m sorry if I squished you. Thanks for catching me. You may each have one candy of your choice, on the house.” he smiles and shakes Frisk’s hand in both of his. The skeleton feels a pleasant current coming off from the other monster’s hands and smiles wider, wondering if what they feel flaring in their chest is real recognition or just magic.

“ It was nothing. I’m glad I could help.” Frisk replies while he stares at them as if he is also trying to recognize them. They half expect for him to ask, or say he knows who they are, even if that would make no sense.  

“Hey, dude, hurry up we gotta go!” one of the youngsters says loudly from the counter.

“Right away! Excuse me.” the monster nods at Frisk, before heading out.

Frisk pats Flowey reassuringly, letting him root himself back in their satchel and starts looking through the shelves, barely walking a few steps when a shout makes them turn back.

“What the hell are you talking bout, shrimp? How can it be twenty for this crap? These things are two bucks everywhere else and you know it!” one of the teens, with a sheep-like face and curled blue horns, shouts over the counter. Flowey narrows his eyes at the scene, his body tense.

“I understand sir, but these are homemade caramel beetles, they are larger than the brand ones so th-”

“Man don’t gimme that, I know it's bull cause I bought these here before, right?”

“Yeah, that was like a week ago. ‘Sides, you wouldn’t want us to call the guards on ya. I mean, what will they say when they see they have a kid on the register? Don’t they have laws against that? Like, monster child labor laws or something?” says the human girl, looking the clerk up and down critically.

“Miss, I am of age, I wouldn’t be allowed to work here if I wasn’t. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, but the price is three dollars per packet.” he says calmly, like he’s used to dealing with this.

“Ok, see, I don’t think you get it short stack. If you don’t want a new set of stripes on that face, you’re gonna take the fifteen bucks and leave it at that, you get me?” the sheep monster puts the cash on the counter and leans in, pushing his face up to the clerk.

 

It is at his remark that Frisk notices the odd lines that crisscross the clerk’s entire body are not a pattern, they are scars. The monster boy’s horns glow menacingly and a flicker of white magic shows the shape of an identical, albeit huge pair of horns hovering at both sides of the clerk’s head. At this Frisk quickly steps forward, magic already fizzling in their fingers. Flowey tenses as well, bullets spinning behind him, but a clawed hand grasps the monster’s shoulder.

 

“Hey buddy, you heard the man, pay up or get lost.” Sans growls over his shoulder.

“The fuck is your...problem?” the boy turns, magic at the ready but falters, glancing at Sans’ sharp teeth.

“Dude, back the hell off!” the other teen, lean, with quills running down their head, pushes closer, while the human girl heads to the door.

“Please, all of you calm down!” The clerk tiptoes, putting his arms between Sans and the other two.

“I don’t have a problem, pal...ya’ll do. It's called sticky fingers.” Sans makes a gesture and the doors glow red, slamming closed before the girl can slip out. The teens seem just about ready to fight but before they can do anything their clothes start glowing.  The sheep’s jacket gets tangled in his horns, the skinny one’s coat gets caught in the quills and the girl’s sleeves ruffle violently like one of those cars sale windsock dancers. A stream of candy flies out from their clothes and they can only stare in awe as it spills out into a pile on the counter.

“Dunno ‘bout you, but I think that’s worth a lil’ bit more than fifteen bucks...r i g h t  p a l?” Sans’s voice gets dangerously low, eye sockets completely empty as he puts a hand around the shoulders of both boys and a wreath of bones hovers over their heads, sharp ends pointing down. Frisk is shaken for a moment, before the sound of the door crashing open breaks them out of their shock. The girl runs out without looking back and after exchanging a look the two monsters follow.  

“Yeah keep running! By the way, pull your pants up you look like you’re wearing a diaper!” Flowey shouts after them.

It's awfully quiet for a moment until a loud snicker breaks the silence. The clerk suddenly bursts out laughing, slamming his hand on the counter.

“Oh wow, Mr., that’s actually the fastest I’ve seen them get out of here!” he says good naturedly.

 

Frisk sighs in relief, Flowey laughs nervously and Sans awkwardly accepts the clerk’s offer for more free candy. The skeletons then put the pile of candy away, then pick what they’ll take and go back to the register. At this point more clients have come in and there is a small line. The clerk, apparently the only employee there, hurries to ring them all up quickly. By the time they make it back to the counter Flowey is noisily chewing on a rainbow licorice, while Sans makes an annoyed face.

 

“Thank you for the purchase, and the help, friends! Is there anything else I could do for you?” he says, practically glowing as he hands them their bags. Though his words are directed at all of them, his eyes are focused on Frisk’s. Sans narrows his eye sockets at him grumpily.

“Afhaughlly yuh phan!” Flowey exclaims around the licorice. Frisk takes it from his mouth and he tries again. “Yes you can. I couldn’t help but notice you’re a little understaffed, arentcha? Are you guys hiring for the holiday season?”

“Actually we might be, the manager usually gets some help for the holidays and so far we don’t have many applicants. We need help re-stocking while I’m taking care of  the register.”

“Golly, that’s perfect! My friend here” Flowey pats Frisk’s arm proudly. “is looking for a job, they are hardworking, really friendly and live close by!” he says in his best salesman voice.

“That sounds great! I can put in a word for you, uh, what’s your name?”

“I’m, Fr--um Cambria the Skeletal, nice to meet you.” They shake his hand over the counter, returning his smile and feeling that familiar jolt run through hand again.

“My name’s Bliz Dedino, nice to meet you too! I hope we can work together in the future. I’ll let the owner know, you can send an application here. I’m the one that handles the e-mails so I’ll make sure yours is on the top.” he says, handing them a flyer with the store’s information.

 

They thank him and let him get back to his work, as more clients start coming in. The three of them start making their way back home, trying not to eat all the candy before they make it there. Sans seems irritated at Flowey who seems smug, more so than usual; but with all that’s happened Frisk doesn’t notice. As they pass the statue again, they stop. Sans humors them as they sit through the song various times before placing their umbrella in the crook of the statue’s arm.

“You know somebody’s gonna take it, right?” Sans grumbles, drawing closer to cover them under his umbrella.

“I know.” they say simply and walk away with him. “At least that means that someone else will hear it, even for a little while.”  

 

They don’t know why it seems important, but the only thing they understand about the feelings the song has stirred in them, is a desire to be remembered. To be remembered fondly, despite the circumstances. Other than the armful of shopping bags, what they take home from the Underground is the lingering feeling that they have forgotten not only themselves but so many other people that had been in their life once.

 

Frisk has hope that if they remember those that changed their life, they might just remember who they are supposed to be. They pine after this promise of certainty, because even the things that at the time seemed terrible, are part of who they used to be. They have to remember, not only for themselves, but for the sake of others as well. Those things they’ve forgotten made them someone important to Sans and Flowey; made them someone worth waiting for, and they want so badly to be that someone again. They want to be the kind of person that earned that affection, instead of the person that receives it, not really knowing if they deserve it.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I like Robert Delong and no the song has nothing to do with the chapter other than wordplay. 
> 
> Be warned there is, what some consider, heavy drama brewing in this story. Not for a few chapters but soon enough the feels train's gonna start rolling. When it comes by yer all invited, choo,choo!
> 
> As always thank you so much for reading.  
> Special thanks to hessie_24: thank you for the comments and the kudos! They've made me very happy, and brightened these not-so-easy days. 
> 
> Hope you're all ready for more feels, more drama, more action and more comedy.
> 
> See you next chap!


	17. Memory of a song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk sorts through new found memories, that make them realize remembering doesn't always make things easier...

 

 

_ Their beloved sibling sings, his words retelling an old story while they play along, pale fingers strumming their lute. They laugh together, sitting atop a broken column in a patch of sunlight. With the butterflies fluttering by and the birds singing close, it's hard to remember they are not on the surface. Even if they’d spent most of their life feeling trapped, looking back on it now, they wish they could go back to that time...back when things were so simple. _

 

_ His voice becomes more and more distant, sunlight turns to dark. They open their eyes again, looking down at their feet as they run through the trees, getting tangled in the undergrowth, falling and tearing their jeans on the rocks. They pant, hoping they won’t be heard and press on, hands catching on the rocks as they climb. They scramble higher on their hands and feet, almost blind in their determination. It feels like the farther they get  from the town, the closer to safety they’ll be.  _

 

_ Once they are alone, with nothing but the wind whistling overhead, they feel relief. Their legs give in and they sit on a rock, in a small hollow that hides them from anyone looking up from the foot of the mountain. They feel a desperate gladness at their solitude, their thoughts interrupted by a strange sound the wind makes behind them. They turn, taking in the slope behind them, where roots hang loosely over an opening in the ground. The opening is ringed by small yellow flowers. _

 

_ They lean over, trying to see what’s inside, pushing to their feet only to get one of their shoes caught in the roots. They lose their balance and put their hands out, scrabbling on the dirt but it gives away, sending them tumbling down. They scream as they plummet, a glimpse of  a yellow coming closer before everything goes black. Through the blackness they see a red light, like a star branded behind their eyelids. The light grows in intensity until it burns blinding white and though they try to scream, they cannot open their mouth, they cannot move. All they can do is listen to the sweet voice that surrounds them, humming that familiar song. _

 

Frisk wakes with a start, eye searching as their magic lights up the room. Tiny motes, like fireflies, float about the room; slowly blooming into small yellow flowers where they land. They watch in horror, unsure if they are still dreaming as their rampant magic covers the room and their body with yellow. They get up shakily, head to the door but it won’t open, its frame tangled in flowers that greedily merge with the ones growing on their arms. They rip them from the doorframe, but touching them only makes them grow faster. Frisk grabs the handle and pulls with all their body weight; the door flies open, their hands slip and they stumble, falling with a crash.

 

Sans appears at the door, eyes lit up bright and searching the room. They look up at him, still shaking, fear and shame making their eyes water. He kneels, offers his hand; they don’t hear what he says nor look at his face, but they take ahold of him. He pulls them up carefully and they kneel, hurriedly wrapping their arms around his ribs and finding comfort in the feeling of his magic rushing alongside their own. He wraps his arms around them awkwardly, patting their shoulder blades until they stop shaking. This isn’t the first time they’ve had a nightmare and for a while it won’t be the last. 

 

 

  
For the next few days Frisk delays the inevitable, they avoid Flowey and spend most of their week by themselves, applying for jobs, reading and going out once or twice to get groceries. They wait until they are alone and carefully sketch the face of the monster in their dream, using it as reference for their search. When their internet research hits a dead end, they venture out into the library, looking through old monster books to find tidbits of a tale that kept changing depending on who was telling it. They find stories about monsters with a similar appearance, focusing on the ones that mention Toriel and Asgore, figuring they might be related. The stories they manage to find mention the death of one of the princes of monsters and despite the inconsistencies they know one thing for sure: humans were involved.   
  


 

Unlike Sans, Frisk is not one for stubborn avoidance so they let themselves accept the deadline of Flowey’s visit, preparing to ask for his help. Frisk tells Sans they want to speak with Flowey alone, which he accepts easily, already used to the way they kept to themselves sometimes. The three of them eat dinner while watching a movie and when it finishes, Sans leaves to his office. They tell Flowey they have something to tell him and fetch their journal. Taking a deep breath, as is their habit rather than their need, they begin their story.

 

 

“I wanted to talk to you about my dreams again. It...um, there’s something that’s been bothering me. They’re usually kind of confusing and sometimes they’re really vivid, like I can’t even tell I’m dreaming sometimes I…” they pause trying to collect their thoughts.

“ You told me about this, I think I get it. So, what’s been bothering you?” he asks softly.

“There’s things in them that repeat a lot; people and places. Part of me thinks they might have to do with my memories...but they don’t add up with the things you and Sans have told me. Sans said that you’re older than him so I figured you might know about it. There’s this monster boy and a human that keep showing up in my dreams. So, I want to know if you remember any of the humans that fell there, before me I mean…”

“I didn’t meet every single one in person, but I can tell you about the ones I heard of. There were...quite a few…” he says carefully.

“Did...what happened to them?”

“Lots of things, really. Ever since the barrier was created humans would fall in once in awhile. None of them would stay too long. The humans Underground were either forced there, got lost or they...fell on purpose. Some of them escaped, quite a few of them died either from the fall or from fighting. But nevermind that, I’m getting sidetracked, was there a specific human you wanted to ask about?”

“I...yes. I don’t exactly remember what they look like, just that they were pale and had freckles. But I do remember they had a monster for a brother while they were Underground, a little monster boy. I know it sounds dumb, but he looks like Toriel and I thought that maybe they were related?” 

They pull out the sketch and show it to Flowey, who frowns and hangs his head as if wilting.

“Golly, you don’t make things easy do you?” he says with a teary laugh.

“What do you mean?” they notice a big fat tear plopping onto the paper and they drop it immediately, searching his face.

“Flowey are you alright? I’m-I’m sorry.” he shakes his head.

“Don’t be, I’m fine...this had to happen eventually, I’m kind of relieved, actually.” he laughs again, looking up. They stroke his face gently and he leans into it, pushing himself out of his pot and onto their hands. “Tell me everything you remember.” he asks, head leaning onto their sternum.

 

They comply, pulling the journal onto their lap, going through marked lines, relating everything in order as best as they can. The flower listens quietly, humming in agreement every now and then until they are done. Their soul is thankfully, no longer shaking violently in their ribcage, now a mere humming on their bones. It is obvious they are relieved to finally share this with him and he knows that it’s time for him to return the favor.

 

“Many years ago, when the barrier was still new, the prince of monsters lived in the ruins with his parents. He was still a kid so he sometimes wandered off into the caves...One day he found a human, it was hurt and because he didn’t know any better he brought it home. His parents took pity on it and healed the child, gave them a place to stay. The human didn’t want to go back and when the monsters asked about the surface, they...didn’t have much good to say. It seems that after the humans chased us away they had nothing left to chase but each other; so they started hunting the humans that could use magic.”

“Wait, the witch hunts? That...that was more than three hundred years ago!” 

“Yes, yes it was. We do age slower than humans you know?...some much slower than others.” Flowey remarks gently.

“I forget that you, I guess  _ we _ ...can live that long sometimes.” 

They both take a moment to settle their thoughts, then he continues.

“That human was the kind that could use magic. Which was pretty much why they ended up in the mountain in the first place, they were a runaway...Their name was Chara.”

Frisk feels a jolt of surprise, though they can’t quite place what it is  they figured out, their chest aches with urgency.

“Even though they were human, the monsters knew that Chara was different. More than just taking them in, the king and queen treated them like family and the monsters learned to love Chara, like they loved their king and queen...and the prince. Prince Asriel, that was his name.” Flowey points at the drawing on the table. 

Frisk repeats the name in their head, trying to see if it triggers anything, but not being able to make a connection just yet. 

“Chara didn’t really like other humans, but they missed the surface like nothing else...So they had an idea, a pretty terrible idea to be honest. They figured they could lend their soul to the prince, so they could go to the surface together and gather the other souls. Free everyone. Chara believed that if they tried hard enough, they could do anything, and for the most part they were right.”

Flowey stays quiet after that. Frisk doesn’t prompt him to continue, still absorbing this information,  confused as to why it makes sense to them when it shouldn’t. Why is it that they could remember someone else’s life so clearly, when they couldn’t really remember their own?

“What happened to them?”

“Chara was always good at magic, but more than that, they were smart...so it didn’t really take them too long to figure out that those yellow flowers they’d fallen on...were poisonous.”

“Then they...oh god...Then the humans I saw, the monster they killed that was Chara and Asriel? That really happened?!” Frisk’s bewildered expression shakes his composure a little, so he just nods.

“Do you remember the statue we saw...in Waterfall?” he asks quietly, they nod. “It's a memorial. Chara wrote that song so when they...died, the citizens made the statue remember them by.”

 

They stroke his petals gently, there isn’t anything they can say. He closes his eyes and leans into them, seeing the all too worn memories playing behind his eyelids.

“Then how come nobody remembers them?” they ask, voice tight.

“It’s easier to forget sometimes, especially when it hurts to remember.” he leans in and they hug him close.

“I want to remember so bad though, even if it hurts I want-I want to know  _ who I am _ …” their ribs fake an inhale just to pause. “Thank you, for telling me all this.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do!”  they pull away to look at his face. “ I’m really glad you would share all these things with me, it's helping me make sense of all this stuff. You listen to me and you share things that are hard to talk about and I-I’m just thankful.” they pull him back into the hug, which he doesn’t resist.

“Gosh, Frisk, that’s not what I meant but you’re welcome. I meant, the part where you said you’d want to remember...even if it hurts?”

“I do mean it. I want to know more about myself, not knowing is kind of worse. At least it feels that way.”

“I know...There is something else I have to tell you, something I-I think you should know about the story.”

“Yes?”

“I am, no, I  _ used _ to be...Asriel.” he says quietly into the side of their skull, hating himself for being glad he can’t see their face. He feels their body tense but they don’t let go, instead they hold him tighter, their shaking hands stroke the back of his head. They stay like that for a painful amount of time. 

“I’m really sorry you had t-to go through that, Flowey.” their voice is shaking more than their hands and it's all it takes until he’s crying in their arms.    
  
  


His body ripples, vines engorge into limbs, leaves become like fur. His muzzle sprouts from between the petals until a the monster Frisk saw in their dreams is sitting right next to them on Sans’ ratty couch. Frisk leans back for a moment to stare, a hand covering their gaping mouth. They reach out to him and he stands still, letting them touch his face, his hands. They hastily pull him back into a hug and he smiles, tearing up in relief.  He leans into the taller body of the skeleton as they each process what just transpired between them. After a while he tires of this shape and when they are both calmer he returns to his pot, holding Frisk’s hand in one of his vines comfortingly.

 

“What does this all mean?” they ask, voice rasping from the way their magic is still fizzling against their throat and eye sockets. 

“Gee, what part, exactly?”

“I mean these memories...why did I remember or just, why do I keep dreaming about Chara and not Frisk?”

“Oh...Maybe it’s because Chara and Frisk were related, somehow?” he says, sounding a bit guilty. Had he known all this time? They try not to think about it, as the thought irritates them, it's unbelievable how much the people around them keep lying to protect them.

“You mean related, like family? Was Chara Frisk’s great grandparent or something?”

“No, not like that...more like magically, maybe? When Frisk fell in the Underground, they fell on the same place Chara was buried.”   
  
“And where I was buried.” they state.

“Y-Yes that too, I mean-I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I know you don’t mean anything by it. Is there anything else?”

“Well, they both had very similar souls, same color and all; Frisk always reminded me so much of Chara, maybe that’s why it was so easy to trust...you. I think you might have absorbed some of the magic Chara left behind; human magic does linger. It's probably the only way you could have survived that fall, it's...it's not one a human could survive.”

 

He talks softly but their mind is reeling, something buzzes in the back of their head with a sense of foreboding. Some parts of the dream from earlier this week come back. They grab the journal they had cast aside and make a quick note. Their last vivid dream wasn’t entirely about Chara, but perhaps it was about Frisk.

 

“Does anyone else know about this?” they ask after a while. He shakes his head, shrugging his leaves.

“Only some monsters know about what really happened to Asriel, everyone else just knows humans killed him. Toriel, Asgore, Sans and you are the only ones that know, oh and Sylvia!”

“That makes sense, I guess...but, um, why are-what happened after you went to the surface? How did you come back?” Frisk asks carefully, noting the way his face immediately tenses.

“...That’s a story for another time, Frisk.” he looks away and they don’t push him. He may not be ready to share everything and if they are honest, neither are they to hear it.  

“I understand. Let me know when you’re...ready to talk about it. Call Sans back?”

“Sure, why not?”

“SANS!”

“Yeah?” he says, suddenly sitting next to Flowey.

“Bugger!” Flowey jumps out of his pot. 

Frisk stares between Flowey and Sans in surprise. “Was that a bad word?”

“Yeah it is, gonna have ta wash yer mouth brat, come ‘ere.”

 

Sans scoops the plant in his claws, putting him back in his pot before heading to the kitchen. Frisk follows, laughing alongside them. Even if their thoughts are still in disarray, they now have a better grip on the truth. However small said grip might be, they’re not willing to let go until they find out everything.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter! 
> 
> hessie_24 called it! There is some Chara to be had here, let's see where it goes...
> 
> Besides that I'm so glad to be able to share this, specially now that it really starts to get interesting.
> 
> Hope you stick around for more, the artwork is coming up! I'll update one of these notes with a gallery link soon. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and see you next chapter! :3
> 
>  
> 
> Recommended Fics that inspire me, but are not related to this one:
> 
> Poetax:The Skeleton Games  
> ToumeiKyoudai: Rain Rain Go Away/Rain Rain Go Fuck Yourself  
> CapnHanbers: Jack of All Trades  
> MegRae: Fried Snow  
> Voice_of_Mischief: A Tale of Dog and Monster


	18. Every other day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the days and weeks pass, chores, work and hanging out become routine. With time comes trust and with it the space for Frisk and Sans to get closer...

****

 

He stares at them, reptilian eyes still as he perceives their heat moving this way and that. Humans were so much heavier than monsters, bones covered in muscle and sinew and skin. They laugh in low voices at a hare-like monster from Hotland. It was a small monster that, lacking arms, leapt around on their hind legs. One of the humans walked over to the monster, their companions detaching themselves from the wall to follow.

 

The human kicked the monster while it was in the air, making it topple onto its face. The monster scowled at them with its single, huge eye, as it pushed itself up. Water is dripping from the cavern ceiling, pattering down the metal of a gutter. Pitter patter, like a heartbeat. His heart beats just as steadily, every pulse welling it fuller with magic as his soul trigger moves ever backwards, too eager to fire. 

 

He couldn’t hear what they said, here and now it doesn’t matter. It’s clear to him their souls are tainted; murky things without a discernible shade, dull hearts made brighter by misery and greed. They deserved fate to backhand them with an intensity equal to that of their depravity. With that thought he fires a bullet called retribution, from deep inside his heart. The golden projectile flies at an angle, tried and true it flies right through, cracking the frail husk of the human’s soul. 

 

The human’s hand shakes, inches from the monster that scrambles to it’s feet and runs away. There is blood blooming in tiny dots from the human’s chest as the energy wreaks havoc in their body. A human female picks up a rock and throws it at the monster’s single eye. A flash of yellow and he’s there, catching the stone in his open hand. The impact cuts into his palm, leaving tiny trails of ash pouring from between his claws. A hero cannot be deterred by pain, because a hero can’t die when there are people he must protect. So he stands his ground and lets them have a taste of true justice. 

  
  


 

Miles away in a small mountain side town a skeleton sits on the couch, chewing on some waffles and fruit while the news play in the background.

 

_ -Security footage continues to prove useless in identifying the perpetrator of the assaults. Their speed is leaving both the police and the Royal Guards baffled. The authorities agree that magic is partially responsible for the unnatural speeds of the attacker....We are all aware these acts of vigilantism are widely supported by the human and monster community, due to the fact crime in the MT. Ebbot area has been reduced by  47%. Yet with an estimated number of over two hundred targeted criminals, we would like to clarify we do not condone-- _

 

“Whatcha watchin?” Sans plops onto the couch, waffles floating from the kitchen onto his claws with a red glow.

“News…isn’t it easier to carry that?”

“Might spill.” He shrugs.

“Lazy bones.”

“You know it. Hrm, I don’t like the sound o’ that.” Sans is frowning and listening attentively to the various theories about the aptly nicknamed, Lightning Vigilante that’s been attacking delinquents in the Mt.Ebbot area for the past few months. Frisk gives him a look and changes channels quickly, they really don’t want anything to keep them from visiting the Underground again, not when the chance to regain more of their memories seems so readily at hand. 

“It’s not that bad, they only beat up criminals and such, we should be safe.” they say rationally. 

“ ‘Should be safe’ and ‘is safe’ ain’t the same thing. ‘Sides we don’t really know why they’re doing that, don’t wanna risk it.” he avoids their eye.

“We’ve been fine all the other times.  Besides, we’ll be together, we can watch each other’s backs, right?” they insist.

“Yeah, yeah…you still need to get the hang of yer magic ‘fore we can do anythin’ like that, specially if you wanna work there.” he says, a bit put off by their directness. 

“It’s okay I’ll ask Toriel to teach me.”

“But I’m already teaching ya.” Sans says innocently, watching them squirm uncomfortably  for a moment before they press their mouth into a firm line and nod.

“I’ll ask Toriel.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t even that bad! Yer gonna let Flowey plant all those seeds of doubt in your head?” 

“It wasn’t Flowey, I just thought she’d be much more qualified at...giving me a Tu-toriel.” 

“Oh, I see how it is.” He can’t help the smile on his face. “I fell short so you replaced me. Tibia honest, I thought I was yer one and bonely! I’d say I’m wounded but I just can’t be arsed, it goes right through me!”

“Oh god no, stop!” Frisk tosses blueberries at him, which he catches in his mouth before chuckling and going to wash the dishes. 

“Fine, just gimme a sec I goat to call her over, let me get my cellbone!”

 

Frisk groans in annoyance and throws a balled up napkin at his head which he redirects to the trash, all is as it should be. After breakfast they buy groceries and watch television together, talking about nothing in specific. They clean the house to prepare for Pete’s visit tomorrow and when they’re done they sit on the couch and play cards. Card games, like many other things, were new for Frisk. They remembered nothing about them and so the first time they went to a gift shop Frisk asked for a deck of cards. Sans had been teaching them as many card games as he could, this time it was ‘Stealing Bundles’.

 

 

“You used to laugh at my puns all the time, I dunno what happened.” he says, faking sadness.

“Now  _ that _ , I’m pretty sure I don’t remember.”  

“Really, then why’d ya laugh?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Frisk shrugs and steals his pile nonchalantly. “It’s not the puns that make it  funny, it’s your reaction.” 

“Whadda ya mean?”

“I don’t know. You say it like it’s hilarious even though you know it’s not, which makes it funny?...Like it’s ironic.”   
  
“Oh I see how it is…yer not laughing at my jokes, yer laughing at me!” he holds a hand to his chest dramatically. 

“No, it’s funny because you have fun saying them…sometimes when things get really tense you say a joke to lighten the mood, and I get it. But when you do it for fun, you look like you’re really enjoying yourself, so it’s nice. I’m laughing  _ with _ you not  _ at _ you!”     
  
They reply evenly elbowing him on the ribs. He pauses to stare at them thoughtfully before stealing his pack back. Frisk phone starts ringing and they make a loud, excited noise after reading the screen.   
  
“I have an interview this Tuesday!” they practically jump in place.

“What, where?”

“At the candy shop, where Bliz works, remember? He told me to apply, and I’d-I’d been applying to other things but most of them wanted someone with more experience. This could be it!”

“Oh, right.” he says simply, putting down his cards. Frisk seems to notice the change in the mood and curbs their excitement.

“I mean, it’s not for sure or anything, but it would be nice. I could take the train to the mountain and come back for dinner. I’ve been wanting to help more around the house.” 

“You already do help, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. I want to help pay the rent too, since I’m living here and just...it would be nice to buy things for you guys too. Christmas is almost here and we need presents!” 

Sans looks at them intensely as if there is more he wants to say, but of course, he doesn’t. He nods and picks up his cards, they do the same.

“Yeah, I know.” he says simply.

  
  


 

That Tuesday Frisk goes to their interview, wearing a new dress jacket over their button up shirt. Sans made sure to switch shifts with Pete just so he could go as well. This made them even more nervous but they managed to keep their cool as the owner, an old monster lady with a huge bun on her hair, asked them various questions. Sans waited outside the store, fidgeting with his hoodie all the while. They exited the store,holding some free samples, relief plain on their face. They snacked and talked on the way back, Frisk was ecstatic.

 

This was not their last interview, but it was definitely their most successful; after a week the store owner called to let them know they’d start training in a few days. It was difficult to tell who was happier, Frisk at getting a job or Flowey at the fact their best friend now worked at a candy store; either way Sans was not exactly happy. Ever since Frisk spoke to him about their dreams and the conversation they’d had with Flowey he’d been acting different. He seemed both relieved and nervous somehow.

 

 

Even so as the weeks passed Sans became calmer, more comfortable with letting them out of sight and more used to trusting their judgement. This made their friendship grow unexpectedly, now that some of the tension was gone, they had more space to be comfortable being themselves and being alone. The months the’d lived together began to show.

Every weekend they would play cards, watch movies, have a sleepover with Flowey or all of the above. It had become a habit to expect one with the other, wherever Frisk went, Sans would follow and vice versa. They had jokes that only they understood, much to Flowey’s chagrin. They were able to finally share comfortable silence.   
  
There was comfort in the ordinary.  They split up the house duties, cooking for each other and cleaning. Frisk took to shopping  for utilities that Sans, who seemed to use his magic for the most trivial things, never thought he needed: like oven mitts, a cutting board and many, many cleaning supplies. They spent a whole weekend putting the holiday decorations on the house, mostly because Frisk insisted they do it without using magic, it was the first and quite possibly the last time Flowey ever saw Sans using a ladder.

  
  


 

That Friday after new year's they were watching the Lord of the Rings movies again, Sans had fallen asleep after the first three hours. Frisk had nearly finished explaining what they would like to do next weekend before they noticed. They were sleepy as were annoyed at the fact he’d been replying until a few seconds ago; now they weren’t sure whether he’d been awake or just replying in his sleep. 

Frisk stared at him, considering whether or not to poke him awake, their own eyelid hanging precariously low. They marveled at the way his skull caught the light of the screen, his face looked so smooth without his usual frown. He looked younger, plump cheeks contrasting with the dark circles under his sockets. The sight was soothing and in no time they too slipped into slumber while all six movies continued playing one after the other.

They startle awake the next morning to a persistent buzz coming from the TV. Frisk straightens up drowsily, disoriented by the fact they were not in their room. They look around, confused to see their legs propped on Sans’ lap. Sans is snoring, head slumped into the dip in the back of the couch, a hand thrown carelessly over their legs. They pull their legs from him carefully, glancing at the TV screen to see the doorbell alert.   
  
“Oh crap!”

Frisk says under breath; they completely forgot that Toriel was coming over this morning. Suddenly Sans noticing they used him as a cushion isn’t half as alarming; they sit up and shake his shoulder. His eyes snap open immediately, a wisp of flame flickering from his eye before he sees their face and its extinguished in a blink.  

“Mornin’ ” he grumbles, before letting out a wide, toothy yawn. 

“Toriel and Flowey are here!...oh and good morning to you too. Now let’s hurry up and get ready!” 

They scramble upstairs to the bathroom, Sans shortcuts to the bathroom door. 

“Take it easy, just wash yer face and teeth, 's fine.” he says.

“Bugh wher phupophed tah may brefhasht!”

“We can eat out, who cares?.”    
  
He smiles lazily, putting toothpaste on his brush with magic and catching it before walking out. They look over their shoulder and he’s gone, walking in with Toriel a little later, toothbrush in mouth . Frisk shakes their head incredulously as he walks back in, rinses his mouth, washes his face, changes his shirt and walks back downstairs. They take a little longer make it to the living room soon after, where the Lord of the Rings is still playing embarrassingly over the unfinished snacks from the night before.

 

 

After apologizing to a smiling Toriel and a laughing Flowey, they all go out to a nearby diner for breakfast. Toriel leaves after giving them each a kiss on the forehead, to their collective embarrassment. The three of them spend the day in a bookstore, talking until late again. Frisk hears Flowey mention something about hikers near the town and an idea begins to form in their head. The next day Frisk wakes up early. Perhaps it's the sun outside, despite the fact winter’s already here, or the music coming from the living room; either way they decide today is a good day to try their luck. They’re sitting on the floor playing a videogame with Sans, their character getting the pixels beaten out of them when they bring it up.

 

“I was thinking, maybe we could go hang outside today, since it's a good day out.”

“Yeah?” he raises a brow, pausing the game to look at them.

“We could make some food to take with us and walk around the park or something.” they wait for his reaction.

“Ya got anywhere specific in mind, kiddo?” he smiles a little and keeps playing. Frisk thrills at what they recognize as approval. They decide not to push their luck and aim low at first, the safest yet most fulfilling option available.

“We could go have a walk in the park, the one with the trail?”

He nods along, not seeming very convinced, they suggest a couple of other places, keeping within range of a short drive on the bike. 

“Ya mind if I take ya somewhere else?” he asks suddenly.

“Mmm, no not really, why? Do you know a place?” they study him, trying to figure out if he’s playing a prank or being genuine. 

“You could say that. There’s this place with a good view, a couple of miles away. Pretty good for a hike if that’s what yer into.” he says glancing at their excited face. 

“Yes, I wanna go! Where is it?”

“Don’t wanna spoil it, so I’m not telling.”

“Why does it have to be a surprise? Am I missing something?” They say, trying to get him to slip up. 

“Nobody likes a spoiler.”

“You have  _ no-body _ to spoil it with!” 

They say half annoyed and half hoping the joke will earn them at least a hint. He laughs loudly and his distraction gets his character thrown across the screen, which makes him laugh even more. Unable to pout with a lipless mouth Frisk settles with grinding their short fangs before they start laughing too, pointedly trying to knock out Sans’ character but failing.

“Let’s just eat lunch and start getting our stuff ready, pack up some blankets and get yer boots out. I’ll start the food.” He shuffles to the kitchen while Frisk scrambles upstairs unable to stop smiling. 

 

They eat, talking excitedly, before making some sandwiches and snacks to take on their impromptu picnic. Sans is quiet but relaxed, Frisk by contrast is babbling, half-hoping if they keep him distracted enough he won’t change his mind. Sans packs the bike with their lunchboxes and a long dark wooden case with metal edges. When Frisk asks what’s inside they get nothing but a wink in return. 

They ride through the late noon, through the outskirts of the town until they reach the hills that surround Mt. Ebbot. When they reach the foot of one of the hills,Sans parks the bike against a large gate, locking it to the bars before shouldering the wooden case.

“Be back before you can say shortcut.” He blinks out in a flash of a pitch black. Frisk stands there dumbfounded before realizing he’d left them to carry the rest of the things.

“Cheater!”

“Ya got a funny way of saying shortcut, kiddo.” he shouts from atop the hill. 

They start trudging up with the food in tow when Sans appears right next to them.

“Fu-Dammit Sans!”

“Woah, watch yer mouth there kid; I didn’t bring any soap with me.”

“Look who’s talking. You startled me, at least give me a warning next time.”

He shrugs and steps in front of them, holding their arms so they stop walking.

“We’re gonna jump now.” 

“What?”

“Consider yerself warned.” he smirks.

 

Next thing they know they’re rushing through the dark, in that feeling that pulls them so fast in every direction they can’t even move. Their feet hit soft grass and though he holds them in place they stumble.

 

“You’re unbelievable!” they say slapping his arm.

“Oooh?”

 

He says this with an odd sing-song tone, Frisk knows there’s a pun in there somewhere but they’re a little too winded to try and figure it out. He makes an apologetic face and takes the food from their arms, placing it on the grass. They make sure their things are safe and wander about, following him down the other side of the hill to the next one. This area is covered in trees and big rocks which they climb over easily. They take photos of the bare trees, whose limbs stretch out onto the clear sky, catching birds and other small animals in the image when they can.    
  


They go back and Sans uses his magic to set up the blanket and the food, they eat and talk, calmer and happier than they remember being before. Though they can’t feel the wind, and the cold; they can smell the woodland, they can hear the birds and feel the softness of sinking into the snow, for now that is enough. As the day wears on they explore the surrounding area, play cards with Sans and talk. Not about their dreams or their memories; today they talk about movies, stories and games, they talk about Flowey and about Frisk’s training at the store. When the day nears an end, Frisk realized they don’t mind, they’ve enjoyed it; yet Sans doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, so they sit together and watch the sunset.

 

When everything is dark and the animals grow quiet Sans finally gets up, but instead of packing he carefully begins to take things out of the case. Frisk stares in wonder over his shoulder, as he  fiddles with various metal cylinders, his bones clatter delicately against the surface as he assembles it: a telescope. Sans adjusts it for a few minutes, then waves them closer. They kneel next to him and look through it, mystified at the way the stars glitter against the dark, their light tinged with subtle colors, blinking back at them like magic.

 

“It’s beautiful.” they whisper.

“Yeah, I know.” 

He leans close and tells them about the constellations, they step back from the telescope as he points them out, explaining the stories behind each and adjusting it every now and then so they can get a closer look. 

“That right there is Orion. You can use him to find the others. See those three stars in a row? That’s the belt, if you go up from there ya see, right there is his chest and his bow.” he says in a hushed grumble.

“That star on his belt is really bright, no wonder he’s easy to find.”

“That’s a nebula actually, the Orion nebula. It's made up of a bunch of other stars, gas and dust. That’s why it's so bright.” 

“Oh, so that’s why.” they glance at him, his eyes are brighter than they’d ever seen them as he stares up at the sky, it makes them smile.

“Wanna know what the star on his shoulder’s called?” there’s a barely concealed laugh in his voice.

“Yeah, what?”

“Betelgeuse.”

They laugh in delight. “What was it again? I didn’t hear it.”

“Betelgeuse.” he grins.

“Oh you mean Betelge-”

“Nooo!” he covers their mouth “Though if you wanna call back Michael Keaton I’m not gonna stop ya. God knows, we needed more of those Batman flicks.” he laughs and takes his hand back to let them do the same.

 

 

They continue like this for awhile, sitting close. Sans puts one arm around them, they share the telescope and listen to him talking softly about the constellations. After a few hours they pack everything and after Sans teleports their things to the bike, he comes back for Frisk.

 

“Let’s just walk this time.” Frisk suggests.

“Sure. Still queasy?”

“Not really, I just don’t want you to be too tired when you’re driving back.”

“But yer making me walk all the way to the bike?” he grumbles amusedly.

“You’re going downhill, Sans, gravity is doing most of the work.”

“It would if I were rolling down the hill, not walking.”

 

Frisk elbows his ribs lightly and he stops messing around, they drive back in amiable silence, putting their stuff away before heading to bed. They brush their teeth together and walk to the bedroom, Sans fixes a phone on his desk while Frisk doodles on a sketchbook, soon enough both skeletons are nodding off and call it night. Wrapped in their blankets Frisk smiles to themselves, this time, here and now, they finally feel like they’re home.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading so far! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this fic and publishing it is always a treat. Hope you're enjoying it and that you stick around for all the shit that will undoubtedly go down in later chapters. All the buildup won't be in vain, I swears, also some more comedy and maybe romance? No smut, but definitely some intense romancing as the story progresses. So read on peeps and I'll see ya next chap! :P


	19. Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd know you anywhere...

  
  


Frisk takes the bag of caramels and closes it off, putting it in the tray. They make their way through the store restocking the shelves, walking back and forth between the storage room and the front. With Valentine’s day right around the corner, monster candy sales have gone up, the store is now full from late morning until noon. They’re still getting used to the faster pace as well as the name Cambria and are thankful Bliz is patient when they don’t respond right away.

 

“Finally got a break huh? How are things going back there?” he asks them, when they ring up the last client of the noon rush. 

“There’s still some Whimsun pops I have to put on display but everything’s more or less set for tomorrow.” they say, wiping sweat off their skull.

“Good job. If you want, we can switch for a bit.”

“It’s okay, I don’t really know how to use the register.” they admit.

“Then you might as well learn, right? Come ‘ere!”

 

They walk over shyly, he moves his plastic stool to the side, letting them stand right behind the register, he steps back on the stool to look over their shoulder. Bliz patiently explains how to bill the different payments and helps them ring up the clients they get over the next few hours. 

 

“Imma head out to the back then, man the fort, Cambria!” he says, walking away.

“Wait, don’t.”

“I’m faster at packaging, no offense. ‘sides it takes you awhile to get home so it's better if you leave on time, right?” 

 

He sticks out his purple tongue at them and goes to the back. Frisk rings up the clients and does rounds to check the shelves. Bliz is back half an hour before their shift ends and they give him the stinkeye. 

 

“Don’t do that again, what if those kids came back?” Frisk says. 

 

“Who, the ones your friend scared off? Hah! I doubt it. Who in their right mind would mess with a guy with  _ that  _ kind of bite?” he says baring his teeth.

 

“What do his teeth have to do with it? It’s not like he’ll actually bite anyone.”

 

He stares at them curiously, as if the answer were obvious.

 

“I don’t go out too often, sorry.” they mumble.

 

“It’s fine, guess it's not something you’d know about if you’ve always lived in a nice neighborhood... Before the barrier was put up monsters used to say they were ‘made of love and magic’.  I know it sounds silly but it makes sense, we’re not really made for fighting. So when things started going bad, monsters started forming gangs and this trend came up. They filed their teeth and their fingers to look  _ scarier _ , you know? No one does it anymore, but it's still…” he made a face.

 

“Scary. I get it. I don’t think Sans would-I mean I don’t know if he-”

 

“Don’t worry about it, I know. He seems like a nice enough guy. If he worries that much for his friends, he can’t be all bad. Most everyone has done things they’re not proud of, you can’t judge.” He shrugs it off and does a few more rounds around the store. Soon it's time for them to clock out, but before they leave Frisk fetches a small treat from their bag.

 

“Hey, I got you something, close your eyes and hold out your hands!”

 

He complies with a laugh and they eagerly take a meal box from their backpack, pausing when they notice a star-like scar on his small hand. This one was an angry red, it looked bright and new.

 

“What happened to your hand?” they ask.

 

“Oh, that? I fell down on my way home, landed on some glass.”

 

“Ouch, hope it goes away soon. Here.”

 

He opens his eyes, surprised at the plastic container’s weight. “Wow thanks! Th-that’s a lotta food!”

 

“No problem. I heard you saying you didn’t have much time to make lunch so I made you some. Hope it’s good!”

 

“I’m sure it's gonna be great. Thanks!”

  
  


 

After they say goodbye, Frisk takes the boat to the exit and a bus to the foot of the mountain where Sans is waiting with his motorcycle. He asks them how was work and they talk about it on the way back, keeping the questions about his teeth to themselves for now. Frisk washes up and prepares dinner, with Sans playing his assistant, handing them ingredients and making random puns about the condiments. They talk to Bliz and Flowey on the phone for a while after dinner and wash their clothes before the night truly kicks in.

 

On their free time Frisk enjoys their new found freedom, walking around town and the park, taking full advantage of the fact they cannot feel the cold that lingers on the mountainside even as spring approaches.  On weekdays, working with Bliz is always fun; even if keeping the store is hard and exhausting work, they are glad to be there with him. When they get their check they go grocery shopping and buy ingredients to prepare a picnic. Sans agrees readily and it's not long before going around the hills and parks every other weekend becomes something nice to do when they can’t hang out with Flowey.    

 

Even their dreams are no longer the same traumatic affair, they are able to keep their magic in check when they sleep and try, despite their interest, to maintain a healthier emotional distance from the images they see. Looking at them from a third person perspective always makes them seem much less frightening. 

  
  


 

That night they fall down again, hiding in the cave, so familiar yet different, more oppressive this time around. They scramble around trying to hide and turn when they hear a voice; his voice, behind them. They travel the corridors together, the flower on their back talking urgently in their ear. They run away from various monsters until they reach a leafless tree and past it a small house upon the ruins. Something both nostalgic and frantic stirs inside their chest, they put a hand over it, turn to look at him and wake up, a skeletal hand splayed over their sternum. They get up, shaking off their unease and take notes on their journal before getting ready for their appointment. 

 

“Flowey said it makes sense, because our souls used to be the same color, and because when I fell the first time I fell on their grave. Then when I died we were both...buried in the same place.”

 

“It sounds like he’s being genuine, but we’d need to find more solid proof of this connection to confirm it is as he says. Magic theory is not exactly my forte; and that still doesn’t explain why you’re having these dreams... but I can see how talking to him is helping you. I’m sure he’s learning from this too and I’m really glad you’re supporting each other. So then, what about Sans?” asks Sylvia.

 

“Um, what about him?”

 

“How have you two been getting along now?” 

 

“It’s been...better. I, well we’ve been hanging out on the hills lately, using his telescope. He taught me some card games too; we play cards a lot, but also I like that I get to spend more time alone. Before I felt like he was kind of looking after me,  like literally I would look over and he was always right  _ there _ . It's nice, to know he worries. But, I mean, it feels better to be able to do what I want by myself too.”

 

They tell her everything that has been on  their mind lately, about their new job and their new friend Bliz; about their dreams and about living with Sans. She listens patiently, asking them various questions and requests that they keep working on their memory exercises, she too seems more relaxed around them now. Even if part of their thoughts can’t help but pressure them into remember more, they don’t feel the same distress they did months ago. Time has indeed helped change all of them, for the better, they know. The next time Frisk sits on the usual hill with Sans it feels as if it’s one of those times that are open for questions with difficult answers.

 

“...and then she, well she burned me. I woke up on the bed, in a small room, a kid’s room. I touched my face and I felt the flowers there, I could see them out of the corner of my eye, growing on my cheek, these flowers.”

 

“That the first time you dream ‘bout them?” Sans asks.

 

“Not really, but it's the first time I see them growing on me. They were... _ attached _ to my skin, it hurt to try and pull them out.”

 

“Sorry ‘bout that. ‘S pretty messed up.”

 

“It’s fine, it doesn’t scare me now because I know I’m dreaming. Before I thought everything I saw was real and that was...scarier. Now I know I’m going to wake up and it’s not so bad.”

 

“I’m glad for you, kid, you need yer rest.”

 

“Thanks. You and Flowey have helped me so much...and Sylvia too, thanks for taking me to her.”

 

“Snow problem.” he says leaning back onto the blanket, waving a hand at the small, days old snow piles around them, the last remnants of winter.

 

“That joke is as half-melted as that snow.”

 

“Bu dum tss.” he mimes drums with a lazy grin, making them shake their head in frustration. 

 

“Sans…”

 

“Yeah?” he turns his head opening one eye lazily, they look away.

 

“Going back to the serious stuff I’d been thinking about, I wanted to ask you something because we don’t really bring it up, I mean…” they take a false breath to steel themselves. “With all these memories mixed up inside me what if...What if I’m not the right one? What if I’m not Frisk?”

 

The last part was barely audible over the cold wind sweeping from behind them. The silence grows long and uneasy, Frisk stops their fidgeting when they hear their fingers clattering against one another, pulling the sleeves over them to clench their hands quietly. They are about to ask again when a scoffing laugh, of all things, interrupts them.

 

“You don’t get it, do ya? That’s not how it works... Yer not just a bunch of memories. I know it’s you, because I  _ know _ you.”

 

Sans waves a hand as if to bat away the question, now with both eyes focused on them. Frisk’s expression is stony and he continues in a more subdued tone. 

 

“It’s in the way you talk, or move your hands. I can see it when you talk to yer friends…and I see it when you look at me.”

 

He turns to Frisk now, who hesitates before locking eyes with him again. Sans frowns at the droplets dangling from the petals in their eye; even when they hold back the tears everywhere else, they can’t seem to control this. He reaches out, catching the drop in his claws, then draws his fingers across the side of their skull as if to brush away the thought. 

 

“No matter what color they are, I know these eyes are yours. ‘Cause I know you…I’d know you anywhere, sweetheart.” 

 

Sans pats their hand, covering their smaller fingers with his claws. Frisk closes their fingers around his, magic sparking for a moment between their bones. He lays back on the grass staring into the darkening sky, noticing the stars between smudges of clouds, tracing in his mind the constellations and pointing them out to Frisk. Orion, Canis Major, what’s visible of Cetus and of course Perseus, one of his favorites, probably because Perseus is the only greek hero who got to have a happy ending.

 

Eventually Frisk lays back too, leaning their head onto his shoulder as he tells them about Perseus in a low voice. They correct him when he twists parts of the story into puns and in turn tell him the myth of Dionysus, their personal favorite.  Frisk’s words are cut off when his hand playfully pulls them closer until their skulls bump. The gesture catches them off guard as Sans’s hand rubs their skull absentmindedly. Soon enough he is snoring and they stay awake by humming to themselves quietly.    
  


The bike ride home is quiet and pleasant, like a weight has been removed from both of them. That night Frisk dreams they are traveling with Sans and Flowey on the bike through a coastal road, the sea to one side, open fields with small, colorful houses on the other. The sun is blinding, leaving golden shards scattered on the waves. White birds keep wheeling past their heads, crying out in their odd voices to greet a new day; and just like them, Frisk feels ready to start again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering if Sans would ever drop that nickname again, here it is. All the fluff brothas, all of it. Enjoy it while it lasts...(insert evil laugh here)
> 
> But in all seriousness thank you for reading so far! 
> 
> As you can see I felt the need to add a telescope scene, because there's not enough of them for my taste. Sans' love for science is one of my favorite things about him and I wanted to put a little more of it here. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this and see ya next chap! 
> 
> (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧


	20. Blackout with cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lazy weekend gets interrupted by a storm, Sans and Frisk try to find ways to pass the hours...

He waits for him to pick up the phone, slender fingers clattering on the arm chair. It rings until it goes to message, he hangs up and calls again, this time he picks up.

 

“Sup, bro?”

 

“Finally! Do you know how many times I’ve called you this morning?”

 

“Not really no.”

 

“Four times, Sans! Four!”

 

“Sorry, I couldn’t pick up  _ be-four _ .”

 

“It’s fine, brother. I was merely worried that you were...tell me that wasn’t a pun.”

 

“What? No, I would never.” 

 

Papyrus can practically hear the shit-eating grin. “For your sake I’m going to pretend that never happened. So tell me, how have you been doing lately?” he asked gleefully.

 

“I’m doing good, Paps...Got yer money back.”

 

“Yes, I saw, it's perfectly fine. You know that I don’t really care about that. I called you because I wanted to know more about  _ your friend _ .” he tried.

 

“What, Pete? He’s fine; got himself  a girlfriend now, he’s been pretty stoked about that.”

 

“Yes, yes, I know about Pete. Unlike you  _ he  _ picks up his phone when I call him! Besides, I’m not talking about Pete; I meant your special friend, nye he he.”

 

“My what?”

 

“You know, your  _ special _ friend?”

 

“Ok, seriously, I don’t know what you’re talking about, bro.”

 

Before Papyrus can reply a sultry purr interrupts him. “Papy honey, come here for a minute!”

 

“Not now, dear, I’m on the phone!” he shouts over his shoulder.

 

“So? There’s something I need your help with...like,  _ right now _ .” says the robot, pouting.

 

“Oh, of course! Hold on a moment, Sans.” 

 

Sans hears clattering and his brother’s steps booming through his house, then Papyrus  gasps and the robot lets out a giggle that makes him frown in distaste at his phone.

 

“M-Mettaton!”

 

“Well, hello there Mr. Skeleton. It’s seems to me like you’re late for your appointment. The doctor will not be pleased.” the robot says coyly.

 

“I-I-I’m on the phone with Sans give me a-a minute, just a minute! The Great Papyrus will be right with you!” Papyrus stammers.

 

“But Mr. Skeleton, I need to start your check up  _ right now _ .”the metallic voice purrs suggestively.

 

“Alright I’ve heard enough! Just call me when yer uh, out of the office.” Sans says pinching the top of his nasal cavity, simultaneously amused and grossed out.

 

“No, no, wait! I heard someone moved in with you and as your brother I must know who it is!” 

 

“Where did you even-? Bro, have you been spying on me?” 

 

“No, I, wait, don’t grab me there! I meant-I wasn’t trying to- honey wait! Alphys said something about a skeleton friend to Mettaton. So I wanted to know, when am I meeting this new friend?” Papyrus manages in a rush. 

 

“They just stayed over for a bit, nothing else...so uh, how’s the Lightning Vigilante case going? You ‘bout to catch em?” 

 

“I wish! I can’t reveal the finer details, as you know, it's official guard business. But I can say that we’ve narrowed down their location to somewhere in the slums between Hotland and Waterfall so it's only a matter of time before...WAIT A MINUTE, don’t try to change the subject! When am I going to meet your friend?”

 

“I uh, I don’t know I-”

 

Luckily for Sans, Papyrus drops his phone before he can answer, all he hears is the robot’s annoying whine over Papyrus’ half hearted protests before he hangs up with a shudder. That’s way more than he ever wanted to know about that. He gets out of his office, finding Frisk in their desk, drawing; he calls them out and together they get ready to start their Sunday right. They make lunch and defrost some meat for dinner for when Flowey comes by later.

 

“Do you think they’ll make it here alright?” they ask.

 

“Why wouldn’t they?” he replies.

 

“There’s a storm coming, with hail and everything. They said it's going to be the last one, but it’s bad, I think. If it hits early they might not be able to make it.”

 

“Didn’t even know ‘bout the storm.”

 

“That’s because you don’t check the news.” they say disapprovingly.

 

“Meh, gotta call the boss then, see if he gives me a day off or two.” 

 

“Bet you won’t forget that.”

 

“Damn right I won’t.”

 

Frisk rolls their eyes and he grins at them pausing to dry his hands and pick up his phone. It’s Toriel; she lets him know Flowey won’t be coming over since they aren’t sure just how bad will the storm be. He chats with her for a while before relaying the news to Frisk and putting some of the food away. It’s a little after lunch when they sit to watch a movie that the storm begins, the windows start rattling like crazy and Sans closes the shutters tightly using his magic.  

 

Just before the hero faces off with the villain, who they just found out is their father, there is a power surge and suddenly dark. The emergency power keeps the fridge going but it seems they’re stuck without lights for awhile. Here at the foot of the mountain repairs take hours and sometimes days, so Sans pulls out his trusty candle stash and a deck of cards, settling with Frisk on the floor, to talk away the hours together before he gives in and sleeps the whole thing through. 

 

“...I just said that, gave them a look and they left. It was really awkward, more for them than for me but still, I think Toriel might be rubbing off on me.” they finish.

 

“Yeah or they just know better.”

 

“Bliz said the same thing. Why even is that? It’s not like I could do much if they picked a fight.” Frisk shrugs.

 

“Cause that’s not the bone they wanna pick with ya, trust me.” he scoffs.

 

“Wait, what is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Never you mind.” he says stealing their pack with a smirk.

 

“No seriously, what do you...oh, aw come on, that’s not it! You think they go easy on me cause I look small or-or cute or something?”

 

“Bingo.” 

 

Now it's their turn to scoff; they shake their head and put down their cards, it's his match.

 

“Then you’re both crazy, I’m an average looking skeleton. Let’s play something else. Durak?”

 

“Sure, whatever ya say, dollface.” he deals their cards still smiling obnoxiously.

 

“Stop changing the nicknames, I think I have enough identity problems as it is.” 

  
“Whaddaya mean?”

 

“You call me kid, kiddo, buddy when you’re mad, now doll face, maybe once in a blue moon you’ll call me Frisk. Then I have to be Cambria when I’m at work and it's just...confusing sometimes.” they say, tone light despite the subject.

 

“Does it bother you?” he asks worriedly nonetheless.

 

“Not really, it just feels weird sometimes. When I go outside I’m Cambria but to you guys I’m Frisk. I’m still barely getting the hang of being one person and now I have to figure out how to be another one, it's just...weird.” they shrug.

 

“You can take yer time to figure it out. No one’s rushing you.” he says sincerely.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem, kid.”

 

“Hmm, still better than dollface” they say, making him laugh.

 

They continue playing; different games and different conversations as the candles slowly waste away. They heat up some leftovers on the stove and talk over their meal, voices quiet, as the roar of the storm drones on outside.

 

“How many years have you and Sylvia known each other? She talks about it like it's been forever.”

 

“Hmm, like a couple of years ago, I dunno...When I met her I was like, twenty?”

 

“And you’re thirty now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Frisk pulls a face trying to count back how much that is in human years, then thinks better of it.

 

“How did you two meet?”

 

“Uh...After the Monster Inclusion Act monsters got free therapy and stuff. Toriel met this guy called Dr. Wales or some other sea creature; so when he retired he left his student to take care of Flowey. The little creeper just kinda dragged me along and introduced us one day...I thought we were going out to eat.”

 

“Sounds familiar.”

 

“Does it?” he smiles to himself.

 

“You know why it does. Anyway I read about it, the Act. Did you know this ‘Jerry’ in person? When I was looking through it his name kept popping up. I don’t remember him but he’s from before the barrier so, maybe you knew him?”

 

He laughs sarcastically and continues eating before replying.

 

“He was annoying as all hell...When the riots started he was there, of course he was. He had this bad habit of butting in where nobody wanted him...Then humans attacked one one of us and Jerry stepped in, gave a speech.”

 

“I saw it...it was pretty amazing.”

 

“Yeah. I dunno where it came from honestly, but, well, you know the rest. A human kills him halfway through, someone else recorded it and next thing you know the video’s all over the internet. It made people think it over. ‘S probably thanks to him that we got our rights...so now you know how we ended up with his ugly mug in the park.”

 

“The statue? But it looks nothing like him!” they say disbelievingly.

 

“Pshh, people don’t care what he looked like, they just like the drama. ‘Least he finally did something useful, that guy was an idiot.”

 

“Sans!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry he’s dead, but seriously, you would’ve said the same thing if you’d met him... Or maybe not, you were always such a goody-two-shoes you’d probably never ditch him.” he mumbles into his tomato juice.

 

“I’m not a goody-two-shoes! I just...was I? What was I like, when we first met?”

 

He stares at them quietly for a long time, the candles dying down make the lights in his sockets seem brighter. They stare back evenly because despite their nerves  they don’t feel the same tension between them anymore.

 

“You were...pretty fucking amazing.” he grumbles.   
  


He doesn’t say anything else and so they do the dishes in silence. The years have made it easier for Sans to talk about these things, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still reticent about letting someone in. Without looking at them, he sits down in the shadowed living room and starts talking softly. 

 

“I used to live in Snowdin, I was a sentry. You and Flowey were tryin’ to get to the surface, to get out of there without killing anyone. You asked me for help but I wasn’t much good for anything back then. I...slowed you down, made an ass out of myself. But you…you were always kind to me. We became friends at a diner, heh, eating fries of all things…”   
  


“Why did you go with me?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“From what I can remember, you were there since Snowdin, so why did you help me?”

 

“...I guess ‘cause we became friends.”

 

“But...why did you leave your home?” they insist.

 

“If we didn’t leave...there were monsters that would’ve hurt you.”

 

“You mean they would’ve killed me, to break the barrier, right?”

 

He nods, sockets dark again. Frisk has a hard time believing Sans would just leave everything behind for a friend they just met, and wished they could recall anything more than the vague flashes without context. They wait until the lights in his eyes return warily; the last of the candle is almost spent and not even monsters can see in this dark. Frisk turns to where they see his magic with their other eye, the red glow pulsing from his ribcage tracing out his limbs with thin tendrils. 

 

“I’m sorry I don’t remember everything yet.” 

 

“ ‘S fine.”

 

“Why did you help me all the way to the barrier? Sorry I keep asking, but I don’t understand.” they say quietly.

 

“...’Cause it was the right thing to do.” he replies even quieter, so that they barely hear him over the noise outside.

 

They don’t know how to put all their conflicting feelings into words, so they say the only thing that makes sense right now.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Yer welcome, kid.”

 

 

Both of them sit in silence, they don’t know what time it is anymore, without lights or a phone nearby. Eventually he gets up, teleports somewhere else and brings out a battery lamp. He sits in front of them and re-shuffles the cards for another game. They shake their head and get out the mandala set from under the table; for a while all they can hear is the clatter of marbles on wood and the wind beating the brick with hail and rain. 

 

“Do you think I’ll be able to fight like you do someday?” they ask suddenly.

 

“W-What?” he drops some of his marbles in surprise.

 

“Like, if I become better at magic, do you think I could be that strong too?”

 

“Why the hell would you even need to fight?” he says disbelievingly while fishing the marbles from under the couch.

 

“Not necessarily fight. I don’t want to hurt anyone...but I want to be able to stick up for myself if anything happens, you know?”

 

“Me and Flowey can look out for you, you don’t gotta do that.” 

 

“I know that, and that's partly why I want to learn.  If anything ever happened I want you to feel like I can take care of you too.”

 

“Yer...nevermind. That’s not why we’re teaching you magic, it's to make you feel safe with yerself, not so you can protect everyone else.” he says it like what they’re saying makes no sense.

 

“I know that, but I would feel better knowing that you guys are safe too; that I can have your back instead of just leaning on you all the time.”

 

He takes a good look at them, partly to check how much they mean it and partly because he can’t believe they would. Why would Frisk want to be able to fight? But their eyes are certain, almost stubborn; they look at him as if he’s the one being unreasonable, so he shakes his head and waits for their move.

 

“You’re being weird.” he points out.

 

“No, I’m being blunt. You guys are always looking out for me; but when I say I want to do the same for you, you look at me like I’m crazy.” they go around the board, paying attention to the thoughtful way his mouth twists.

 

“It's just...something I never thought you’d say.” he admits.

 

“Why is it weird for me to want to keep my friends safe?”

 

“That’s not the weird part it's ‘weird’ to hear you say you’d fight for us.”

 

“I love you both, very much. It would be weirder if I said I wouldn’t, at least that’s what I think. I really don’t want to hurt anyone, but if someone tried to hurt you...I’d want to at least be able to stop them.”

 

“I guess…”

 

He regards them silently, curiously this time. What they say doesn’t add up to what he remembers about them, then again, had they ever sat down to talk about themselves like this? He can’t even remember what it is they used to talk about at Grillby’s; after fifty odd years only one or two things come to mind. He feels sickened by how hard it is to remember, wishing he’d made their words in his mind more important.

 

“Sans?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You ok?”

 

“Yeah, I zoned out tibia honest.” he says.

 

“...So much for hoping it would last.” 

 

“The what?”

 

“The few hours it’s been since your last pun.” they say trying to pout.

 

“It was a-pout time then.”

 

They cover their face with their hand, both to hide their embarrassment and so that their half smile doesn’t encourage him.

 

“What time is it?” they ask, making him check his phone.

 

“It’s nine.”  

 

“Feels later than that.” they remark.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Are you sleepy?”

 

“Not too bad. Why? Wanna keep playing?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

 

“Yes, please. Back to cards?”

 

He nods and pulls out the cards from his jacket, putting the mandala away with magic, briefly lighting up the room with red. 

 

“I wanted to ask something...before.” they say, with a yawn.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“Did you-? I mean, I wanted to know why are your teeth sharp.” they say, pointing at their own blunt fangs.

 

“Somebody gave you a tip, huh?”

 

“You could say that.”

 

“What’d they say?”

 

“...That monsters don’t normally have sharp teeth. That they change them when they, or more like because...” they try to find a polite way of putting it.

 

“ ‘Cause they’re up to no good.” he finishes.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I filed them when I was like thirteen. I got into what you humans call a ‘gang’, trying to make some quick cash for me and Paps. It’s just one of the things you did when ya joined.” he shrugs grimly.

 

“Oh.” they don’t know what else to say for a while but he looks at them expectantly and emboldened, they decide to continue.

 

“Did you quit?”

 

“ ‘Course I did. It was a mistake, did a lot more harm than good...Sides, there’s better ways of getting cash.”

 

“Like fixing cellphones at home and sleeping at the store?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Anyway I’m really glad you learned from it. It’s the same for everyone, it’s kind of the rule that you have to make a bunch of mistakes when you’re learning.” they say trying not to seems too concerned.

 

“ ‘S that so? Guess I’m still learning then.” he grins evilly at them, they just stick their tongue out at him. 

 

“Still, don’t read too much into it, I was a kid back then, I did a whole lotta stupid shit.”

 

“ Kid? Weren’t you thirteen? That makes you like...forty something in human years though. Wait, how old were you when we met?”

 

“Hmm...like around fifteen, I guess.”

 

“Fifteen?! So, does that mean I was technically older than you?” Frisk says trying on a little evil smile of their own.

 

“Only technically.” he laughs under breath, they look silly instead of scary.

 

“So in human years you were around...fifty something?”

 

“Pretty much, remember we age slower... you’ll notice it eventually. Makes it so that our minds work different.”

 

They finish the match and Sans waves for them to give him a break. They each lean back into the couch, getting more comfortable. Frisk’s eye closes with sleepiness, oddly enough not seeing anything makes them less awkward. They can still see his magic out of the corner of their eye, but they know he can’t see their face, so it's still safe to keep asking. 

 

“What about your feelings?” they venture.

 

“What about them?”

 

“Do you think...do you think your feelings are different from humans’?”

 

“Pretty sure they are, it’s just hard to explain, since I don’t know how a human feels things.” he scratches his cheekbone thoughtfully. “Sylvia says humans’ minds mature faster, and their feelings slower. Monsters are the opposite, even if we know a lot of stuff that doesn’t mean we’re more mature. We pay attention to different things; ‘cause of magic we can tell what we’re feeling easier, but even if we’re smart we tend to just do what we feel like. We’re more...impulsive.”

 

“Humans can be impulsive too.” they muse.

 

“Maybe impulsive isn’t the right word, more like souls and feelings are a priority, even if you end up doing stupid stuff because of ‘em. Our feelings, our recurring thoughts change us and a lot of how we use magic has to do with how we feel. So it’s different that way.” he explains that clear tone that Frisk thinks of as his ‘science voice’.    


  
“So, do you think that’s true? About maturing different?”

 

“I don’t like generalizing, but it looks that way. I mean, I’m like a hundred but it's not the same as a hundred year old human.” 

 

“I’d be lying if I said you’re like a hundred year old man...more like fifty.”

 

“That’s not gonna work twice, ya know.”

 

“I can see your magic remember? You always jump when I call you old.” they quip with a decidedly evil smirk.

 

“Woah, rude! Maybe you should stop hanging out with Flowey before you turn into a creeper too.” he says, covering his ribcage with his hands daintily.

 

“You know I don’t mean it, I can’t turn it off.”

 

“Yeah I know, just messing with ya.” he winks, they roll their eye.

 

“But I think get it, the thing about human and monster feelings. When I’m dreaming I’m human I feel... like everything is happening too fast to understand it. Then when I wake up everything’s...the same but I feel like I can see it better. Like I’m driving home but now I’m going slow enough to see the surroundings. It doesn’t make feelings easier to understand, not really; but I feel like I can trust them more now. Like if I listen hard enough I might just be able to get it.”

 

They finish, placing a hand over their soul; he glances at their chest, nodding in understanding. The two of them sit and listen to the storm, Frisk half expects him to start snoring but he never does. Quite suddenly they feel him shaking their shoulder, voice low calling their name. It never occurred to them that they could fall asleep first. He laughs, eye sockets turned to slivers either by mirth or sleep. The lamp is flickers and goes out before they can say anything back at him.

 

“Dammit, I knew I forgot somethin’.” he mutters.

 

“You forgot the batteries, didn’t you?”

 

“Nah, nevermind, I can just use the phone.” he pulls the phone out but it beeps pitifully then dies. 

 

“You’re unbelievable!” they say with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, I can walk upstairs fine.” they hope their phone is still at the desk just in case.

 

“I can take you if you want.”

 

“You mean a shortcut? How are you going to get back here, though?”

 

“Chill, I have the house memorized.” He says smugly, somehow finding their forearms in the dark and taking hold of them. They reflexively hold onto his as well.

“Wait, did you take out the bin?” he asks urgently.

 

“Eh-what? I think I did I’m not sure.”

 

“Kid, if you don’t wanna end up with a trash bin fused to your leg, you’ve got tibia sure you took out the trash.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re using the same pun. It hasn’t even been two hours! And I can’t believe  _ you _ are telling  _ me  _ to pick up my trash when you made a trash tornado in the closet last week. I thought you said I’m supposed to be the responsible one!” they say, trying in vain to tickle him.

 

“Says the kid who broke two windows and hid the evidence.”

 

“It was an accident!” they sound embarrassed and he laughs. 

 

“Just saying, those were a  _ pane _ in the  _ glass _ to fix.”

 

“Why do you do this to me?” they whine, struggling feebly.

 

“Cause you secretly think it’s funny.”

 

“I do and I hate it.”

“I know. Close yer eyes.” he says in a low voice.

 

Sans pulls them closer, still laughing and shortcuts them into the room. They didn’t take out the bin, so when they step into the room his knee hits it with a loud clatter, spilling papers and metal bits all over the floor. The momentum pushes them forward and Frisk stumbles onto the bed, still holding Sans as he falls to his knees. They laugh for a while and decide they’ll clean up in the morning. 

 

Frisk shuffles onto the bed, still dressed, pushing off their slippers and throwing the blankets over themselves. Sans sits on the floor, back against the side of the bed, fiddling with some of the phone parts from the trash. They don’t say anything for so long he’s sure they must’ve fallen asleep again.

 

“Welp...I guess this is good night, kiddo. Sleep tight.” he says softly.

 

“You too. This was fun. Let’s do this again sometime... but without the storm part I guess, it's making me nervous.” they reply groggily.

 

“Sure, and don’t worry these storms usually  _ blow over  _ in a few days. See ya tomorrow.”

 

They groan weakly at the joke and he gets up to leave but feels their hand grabbing his.

 

“One last question.” they say.

 

“Shoot.”

 

“How long can skeleton monsters live?”

 

“Pretty long time, maybe three, two hundred or something years more, if we don’t get sick or whatever.”

 

He stands there waiting for them to let go but they don’t. Their hand fizzles with their effervescent magic, he relishes the delicate before he begins to pull away. Frisk’s hand tightens.

 

“Last one.”

 

“Go ahead, kid. My pin number’s 4122, I’m not sure when’s the last time I washed my socks and yes, I finally mustard the courage to switch back to drinking ketchup.”

 

“....Stop messing around, I’m serious.” they mumble shaking his hand.

 

“Kay.” 

 

“So...do you think we can...stay friends that long?”

 

“Sure thing kid, we’ll be friends till one of us kicks the bucket.”

 

“Promise?” they ask, sticking their pinkie out onto his palm.

 

“I’m not that good with those.” he turns to them, red eyes searching the sliver of gold visible under their eyelid, it holds him steadily in place. They’re so sleepy he’s not sure how much they mean it, but he knows how much he does, so he hesitates. Their eye glimmers intensely, waiting, he sighs heavily, still surprised by how easily they affect him. 

 

“But I guess I can make an exception.” he concedes, wrapping his own pinkie around theirs, they hold him there then their hand goes limp, light finally fading from their eye.

 

“Sans?” they whisper.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“What for?”

 

“...Everything.”

 

They’re asleep again, with his left eye he can see their soul going into the calmer throes of sleep; which is great because he has no idea what to say after that. So he just stands there, feeling his soul thrumming, magic filling every bone with a delicate sense of well-being, until he shortcuts back to the couch and settles in. Sans listens to the storm until he too falls asleep, the entire time feeling conscious of the promise he made, as clearly  as if he were still holding their hand in his.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the fluff....
> 
> 'Cause, well, you might wanna get a box of tissues for the next one. (･｀ω´･+)
> 
> This is one of the first I typed out all at once, I wanted to develop their relationship more and this seemed like a good way to go. Comments and feedback are always welcome, see ya on the next one!


	21. Red on white

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and Bliz go out to make a candy delivery to the town of Snowdin with the hopes of finding some of their memories...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when one of your family members says: 'It's a beautiful day outside' and you have to consciously restrain yourself from going: 'Birds are singing, flowers are blooming..."

 

 

The boss gives Bliz a clipboard with the delivery instructions and inventory, he makes sure everything is set and that the next clerk in shift has everything in order. This is a big delivery and he’s sure it’ll be a great chance for Cambria to prove themselves, but before he can suggest it the boss places a hand with painted claws on his shoulder.

 

“Take the youngin to Snowdin wit’cha. I know you like workin’ with ‘em. I’m sure they’ll do just fine.” she says, her lip curling in a smirk. 

 

“You really mean it, ma’am?” he asks, she shrugs and pulls away to exhale the cherry smoke from  her pipe away from his face.

 

“If they’re gonna stay here awhile, they better know what they’re getting into, right?” 

 

“Yes, ma’am! Thank you!”

 

She waves him off and he goes to relay the news to Cambria. Their face has an odd mixture of excitement and guilt, but the way they eagerly help him pack, sets him at ease eventually. Together Bliz and Cambria load the boxes of candy into a platform cart, making sure they have everything, before taking a covert route through the back alleys of Waterfall. With the help of the ferry person they move everything onto the boat to Snowdin. Frisk is certain that if they still had a heart it would be racing. 

 

“Cambria?”

 

“Uh, yes?”

 

“Do ya think you’ll need, I mean I brought some stuff over to keep us warm, just in case…” 

 

He rummages through his knapsack, putting on a worn and patchy coat, and handing them a long, red scarf. They thank him and wrap it around their neck, not really sure if they will feel cold since they’ve never been somewhere where it constantly snows. Bliz wraps an identical, if not rattier, scarf around his neck, pulling it c up to his nose.

 

The boat nearly flies through the dark canal, only two boats pass at a time in opposite directions, all stocked with supplies or merchants. Unlike the wide and well-lit canals for the tourists, these are more foreboding but also thrilling. The boats move so fast they seem to fly over the water. Frisk and Bliz have to make an effort to ensure neither them or the cargo flies off into the canal.

 

 

When they reach their stop and push their cart into the back of the store. Frisk only gets a glimpse of  dark trees whose wide trunks are lining a cavern so high, they can’t see the ceiling from which snow continuously pours. Partly because of Bliz’s experience and mostly because of their mutual eagerness at being at the end of their shift, they complete the delivery in record time. They contact the boss and as soon as they are done they head out.

 

For the first time they can remember, Frisk is wandering the Underground without Sans or Flowey, and the thought is  exhilarating. They wander with Bliz through the snow and can’t help but feel a little bitter that other than some stiffness in their joints, they still can’t feel cold. They go through the usual crowds and into the plaza, taking pictures with the giant Christmas tree, buying some snacks and window shopping at the stores that line the cheerful town. Frisk observes everything intently, trying to find something familiar. The music, the constantly lit multicolored lights, the cheerful smiles everywhere should be comforting, but the farther they wander the more uneasy they become. If only they could remember why.

 

 

“Are you alright? You’re awfully quiet.” Bliz asks.

 

“I’m alright. Remember when I told you I was having problems with my memory?”

 

“Yeah, why, do you recognize anything?”

 

“No...I don’t. I know I should and that’s why I feel kind of...bothered? I’m not sure, for some reason I don’t feel good here, but I don’t know why.”

 

“Hmm, maybe it's the crowd, I don’t like being in crowds too long, it’s kinda annoying after a bit. You know, trying not to get crushed?” he gestures at his small body, they laugh softly.

 

“Don’t say that, you look just fine as you are.”

 

“See? Only a friend would say that, that’s why I can’t take your word for it.” Frisk smiles and shakes their head. “ Anyway, what I meant was: wanna get out of here?” he offers.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

 

Bliz leads them out into the outskirts of town, farther from the docks and into a park; great dark trees looming over narrow paths dotted with benches and cutely shaped shrubbery, also covered in tiny holiday lights. The wind roars overhead, snow flying past them as they find a bench next to an ornate street light, a bubble of light in the dark. The two of them talk quietly until the unease settles; but seeing how he starts shaking, Frisk decides to cut the visit short and go back. He tries to argue but eventually the wind becomes too much for his scaly body and he agrees to take a break back in town.

 

Not needing the scarf, Frisk doesn’t notice it slip from their neck and get carried off by the wind. Bliz offers to get it but they refuse, laughing at how he can barely speak with how hard his teeth are chattering together. The scarf is not hard to find, a red splash in the white; they walk up to it, enjoying the sensation of their boots slipping into the snow until their elongated shadow is pouring over the scarf. Their soul gives a sudden pang, like a hot line streaking across their sternum, lighting it with pain. Brilliant red on the snow, spreading as the snowflakes melt into its warmth, turning liquid red…

 

 

...Blood…

 

Not just red…

 

A brilliant red.

 

 

They fall to their knees, the loud crunch of snow resembles heavy footsteps. A voice behind them, that snarls and threatens. They close their eye, seeing their soul fluttering aggressively in confusion, in pain. They turn their head up to see nothing but what is struggling to come to light inside their head. They push into the wall behind which they can feel the answers hidden, they grasp that slight recognition and pull it forcefully, painfully into the forefront of their mind. 

 

 

This time they don’t let go. 

 

 

Bones pierce their limbs tearing them, but they are not  _ yet _ dead. They are  _ impaled  _ into the ground, feeling the life pouring from their body onto the snow.  _ It’s so cold. _ Footsteps draw closer in the snow. A male voice, loud and commanding with an odd intonation. He talks down to them, expecting no reply. Their mouth tastes of iron, the freezing wind licking at the  _ blood _ that slips from their mouth. The cold  _ bites _ into them and they slip away. Again they find themselves  _ pierced _ . They are running this time, when the pain goes through their  _ leg _ , then their  _ arm _ . The feeling of their skull  _ shattering _ from behind is the last thing they can...No…...

Because againAgaiNa G A i n  **a g A i N** ...

 

They are P i n N e d S T A b b e d B r o K e n S p i l t H u n T e d K i L L e D in the snow. 

 

_ He  _ continues to kill them, methodically, stubbornly, mercilessly. 

 

“CAMBRIA!”

 

Warmth, not from skin, but instead blooming from their chest and into their limbs. The feeling of being close and cared for, the pleasant sensation of being comfortable with another and an unwarranted feeling of fitting in. They open their eye to see Bliz, standing over them, worried tears pouring down his face as he releases them from a hug. 

 

“I’m sorry...I think-I-” Frisk starts, voice coarse.

 

“Don’t say you’re sorry, you didn’t do anything! Are-are you ok? Are you hurt?” he says looking them over, sniffling back tears.

 

“I-I just... _ remembered  _ something.” They grip the scarf tightly in their fist, but do nothing to bring it close, they can’t even look at it anymore.

 

“Are you…? Let’s sit down, here eat this.” he unwraps a chocolate shaped like a toad and places it in their mouth, they chew and swallow it, not really bothering to taste it but feeling the pleasant magic spreading down their spine nonetheless. He shoves the scarf in his knapsack and wraps his arms around their waist leading them to a bench. Neither says much, Bliz just places a hand on their shoulder, rubbing it every now and then.

 

“I’m sorry I worried you. I just remembered something...bad. It…” they stop, light from their socket as they try to come to terms with what they saw.

 

“You don’t gotta talk about it...I can imagine how messed up it must be to not remember things and then when you do...to remember something awful. Just...you’re alright now. Whatever happened we can try and fix it, talk about it o-or go to the police if we need to. I mean I don’t mind going with you, just...It’s gonna be ok, Cambria. It’s gonna get better and if you need help, I’m here for ya.” he looks at them seriously. They’ve never heard him this serious before and it is reassuring.

 

“...Thank you. I’ll tell you when I can...you know-” they make a gesture next to their head. “-figure it out.”

 

“Sure, I’m always right here...like literally, I see you five days a week, remember?” he says with a weak laugh, wiping his nose with a napkin and handing them another from his bag. 

 

“Yeah, I do.” they smile a little.

 

When Frisk is calmer they make their way back through the town which somehow managed to get fuller while they were away. They stay close to each other, Frisk following Bliz into a small hot chocolate store where they wait until he warms up to continue. It is as they are making their way to the docks when they pass a small park, that they pause for a moment, looking at the children and monsters play. The kids throw snowballs at each other, sled down a small hill and slide down ice slides someone must’ve sculpted some time ago, it’s all very cute and pleasant. Suddenly a loud crack behind Frisk makes them turn, the unnerving snap of wood splintering cuts through every other sound like a gunshot. Some kids jumping on an old log managed to rip one of its frozen limbs off, squealing in delight.

 

The sound re-ignites the dread in them, thoughts rushing back and forth in their head without direction. They faintly feel a small hand in theirs turn them around and out of the corner of their eye, they see a red scarf fluttering in the wind, red upon white. Looming over him is a long, fanged skull, red scarf blown  by the wind; the red lights in his eye shine brightly, gold at the center like molten metal. He smiles, joylessly, as if proud he was able to break them so easily. They finally recognize his face. 

 

The pieces start to fall into place and they are surprised by what they see.   
  
****

**He** had know, how could  **he** not know?

 

T h e y  w e r e  b r o t h e r s  a f t e r  a l l.   
  
  


This time they turn to Bliz and wordlessly wrap their arms around him, bending to put their head over his shoulder. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t say more, simply holds them tightly as they cry. When they finally stop the both of them continue walking, aimlessly. After a while Frisk looks at his face, only to see his nose is purple and his legs are shaking. Frisk tries to take him back to town but he refuses, grabs their arm and leads them into the canals. He pays another boat to the Capital and walks them to the entrance...then keeps going.

 

“...Bliz, thank you for helping me. I got scared...of what I saw. I  didn’t think...” they choke a little on the words, he squeezes their arm.

 

“I’m sorry. It sucks, I wish you didn’t have to-I wish I could help you more.” he says with intensity, his soul usually glows brighter than anyone else’s but now it is blazing, a yellow that is brighter than the sun. It comforts Frisk, even now.

 

“You are helping, I just...Can I ask you something before I go?”

 

“You can ask me whatever you want.” he says with certainty. They hesitate.

 

“What do you do when you find out, someone you care about is...hiding things from you? H-How do you know i-if you can trust them again?” they try to swallow but quickly realize it makes no difference, they kept forgetting they didn’t have a throat. He frowns at them, eyes somewhat sad.

 

“That’s...a tough one. I guess it depends how bad the thing they’re hiding is. If it's a bad habit you can tell them to try to stop it and stuff...But if it’s something more serious...I think you should weigh the bad thing against the good things. If the good outweighs the bad then you can try an forgive them, but if it’s not then...maybe you shouldn’t trust them anymore.” he holds their gaze steady, Frisk spine rattles audibly.

 

“Th-that makes sense...I’m just not sure. Right now I’m just so...confused and scared and I’m-I’m kind of  _ angry _ …” they admit, tears welling in their sockets, eye flaring back to life.

 

“Then don’t think about it for now...I mean, no one’s rushing you, you know? Just figure out what you want to do, when you’re ready.” 

 

Bliz walks to the bus station with them and when the bus arrives Frisk turns to him for a goodbye hug but he’s already climbing into the bus.

 

“Where are you going?” Frisk asks.

 

“Where else? I’m dropping ya off!” 

 

“Wait, what? Why?”

 

“Dude, you’re not going home alone like this, it’s messed up!” he says in a lower voice.

 

“I-I mean I can go just fine I-”

 

“Too bad, cause I already paid the tickets.” he says with a little smirk, swiping his handlink over the machine.

 

They know better than to argue and sit with him in the back of the bus. Noticing their tension, he chatters away, sharing anecdotes of all his part-time jobs before working at the candy shop, until they join in. They talk amiably until Frisk’s nerves subside. They get off the bus at the foot of the mountain and try to say goodbye but Bliz is determined to take them home, they don’t argue any more and head to the train station.

 

“This is the place.” they say, once they arrive at front of the apartment.

 

“Kay then, just...take care of yourself, ok?”

 

“I-I will. Thanks...thank you for walking me home and for helping me. I owe you big-time.”

 

“Anytime and you don’t owe me anything; just...take a break. You don’t have to figure this out right now and uh, you know you can call me anytime. Whenever you got something you need to get off your chest, just talk about it, with me or anyone else, just…” he reaches for their hand and they feel that same sense of familiarity stirring in their soul, they can see in his eyes he feels the same. “Don’t bottle it in, trust me. Keeping stuff to yourself? It’s...heavy. Don’t do that to yourself, you don’t deserve it.” 

 

The sadness in his voice hits them, he really does care. Besides, they can’t keep this in forever, it would definitely crush them.

 

“I won’t...keep it to myself, I mean. I will definitely call you if anything comes up. So, can I borrow your handlink?”   


  
“Sure.” He hands them his handlink phone, unlocked. Frisk takes it and transfers the cost of the tickets back into his account. “Hey! What did you do that for?” 

 

“To make sure you can get home too.” they reply simply.

 

He stammers, unable to come up with a retort, as they both know he doesn’t have anything to pay the ride back home with. Frisk gives the handlink back and once he puts it away, they give him a big hug, lifting him slightly off the floor. Once his feet touch the ground he returns the favor, much to their surprise. They say goodnight to each other and Frisk watches after him until he disappears around the corner. They grip the strap of their backpack tightly as they make their way up the stairs, preparing themselves for the inevitable. 

 

“Hey, damn I was about to call that lady, thought she’d made you take that candy all the way to China.” Sans jokes casually, but the tension in his eyes reveals the very real worry behind it.

 

“...I texted you before, I was just talking with Bliz.” They reply neutrally, heading straight to their bedroom. 

 

“Yeah, shit. It just took longer than...Frisk?”

 

They pause on the stairs, turn to look over their shoulder, staring at the scar across his lips, the hole where his nose would be, anything but his eyes.

 

“You ok? You, uh, look like you’re worked to the bone.”

 

They nod, letting their shoulders slump tiredly.

 

“I had a...rough day at work. I’m going to try to sleep it off.”

 

“Best idea you’ve had, kiddo. Don’t you want dinner first? We got meat pies.” he suggests, walking over.

 

They walk ahead, keeping their distance. “I already ate, thanks.”

 

“Kay, uh, if you want you can...have some tea before you sleep, it helps. I’ll leave it in yer room.” he says gently, letting them go this time. 

 

 

He knows more than anyone how impossible it is to talk about things before you’ve figured them out, he can give them their space. They thank him and go inside their room, they don’t bother locking the door, they both know it's pointless; but by closing it they let him know they need their privacy. Frisk gets ready for bed, Sans goes to work at the office, gets the tea ready and once they slip into the bathroom, he shortcuts into the room to leave the tea and some cookies by their bed. He tells them goodnight, they reply from behind the door. 

 

 

For the next few days he leaves them be, brings Flowey over, talks to Sylvia, hangs out with Pete, even does the groceries so they don’t have to. He tries to stay relaxed, act natural, but he can see the way they frown every time he does so and quickly changes strategies. Though they seem calmer, they’ve yet to talk about whatever is bothering them, the slight, almost pained frown is never too far from their features. At the end of the week he goes up to the roof, the plants there are slowly coming back to life as spring turns the weather warm. He sits on the ledge against the wall, pulls out his phone and calls her, tells her what’s been going on recently.

 

“So, have you asked them what’s troubling them?” Sylvia asks after he’s done.

 

“Not yet, I...thought it might start something if I do. What kind of asshole asks someone to tell him what they’re hiding when he won’t even…? You know what I mean.” he says, tiredly. 

 

“Not really. Tell me what you mean by that.” 

 

“How can I ask ‘em to tell me what’s bothering ‘em, when I never do? That’s pretty hypocritical, lady.”

 

“If you recognize that it’s a problem then you can think up some solutions. What do you think would be the best way for you to solve this?” she inquires.

 

He laughs bitterly. “I don’t know if I’m ready for either of those, I don’t wanna make them tell me and I dunno if I wanna tell em anything either...Last time they turned to me and told me they’re not a kid anymore and asked me to take them Underground and I took ‘em. I couldn’t say no...even when I know once they remember everything they’ll just…” he can’t even say it.

 

“They’ll what? What are you afraid they will do?”

 

“I’m not…” he sighs, rubbing the dents under his eye sockets tiredly. “I hurt them, doc. Physically and emotionally too...I let Papyrus hurt them, I hurt them myself and they-they don’t remember, not yet. But when they do,  _ that’s it _ . Done, finito, capisce?”

 

“Were they aware of this before they lost their memories?” she takes notes as she waits for him to continue.

 

“Yeah, they knew. Why?”

 

“And they forgave you.” she states.

 

“I guess.”

 

“If they forgave you then, they might forgive you now. But do keep this in mind. Back then, they forgave you knowingly, yet at this point in time they cannot remember. How can they forgive you when they can’t even remember what you did wrong?”

 

“How can they forgive me when they do?” he shoots back bitterly.

 

“The same way they did back then, by knowing what happened, by knowing you and deciding whether or not to  give you another chance. This time you have the chance to explain what happened, to say you’re sorry. This is a good chance as any to make amends, not only for them but for yourself. Don’t let it go to waste, Sans. Because what you choose to do makes a difference, and doing nothing is also a choice.”

 

“...I dunno how to tell them, I dunno what to say and frankly I dunno if I can.” 

 

“I believe you can, don’t sell yourself short.” she starts and he chuckles bitterly at that. “You know what I mean. But keep in mind, there’s a chance they’ll remember on their own accord, so whether or not you tell them, you have to be prepared. Hiding what happened won’t change the fact. Be honest with them, accept what happened so you  _ both _ can move on.

 

“I hear ya, doc...I hear ya.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drama fireworks have been set, though if you want the drama bomb you'll have to wait a while. 
> 
> In the mean time...all the fireworks...all of them.
> 
> Also it had a little fakeout there, Frisk still doesn't remember what Sans himself has done to them.   
> Wonder what's gonna happen first? Them finding out or he getting his shit together and telling them? 
> 
> Read on and find out!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope to see you on the next one!
> 
>  
> 
> φ(*⌒▽⌒)ﾉ


	22. Bare faced lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk starts coming to terms with their recovered memories and decides to confront Sans about what he's been hiding...

__

#    
  


“So how are you holding up? You sleep ok?” he asks, noticing the dark circles under Cambria’s eye sockets.

“Not really, I kept dreaming about it...you know, that memory.” they say, walking back to the shelves.

“Dang, that sucks...You can call me, you know? I meant it when I said you could call anytime.”

“Bliz, it was like three in the morning.” 

“So? What are friends for, if not to have half-asleep conversations  _ at, like, three in the morning _ ?” he says in a bad impression of their accent.

 

That manages to pull a smile from them before new clients arrive and they put their conversation on hold. Once again the clients make an offhanded comment about Bliz’s age and though it happened often, Frisk could see it still made him uncomfortable. The both of them wait until the humans leave, their sweet ‘business smiles’ slipping the second they’re out the door.

 

“There they go again, just because you tie in a compliment doesn’t make it any less offensive when you point it out like that, darn these people.”

“I know, they do the same thing with my flowers. When I told them they’re not really attached they asked if they could take some home, I’m not a tree! It’s like they think saying they’re pretty makes up for all the staring.”

“I know right? They make this face like I’m so damn ‘precious’” he puts his claws on his cheeks, batting his long lashes. “ But then, they don’t take me seriously ‘cause they think I’m a mascot or something. They asked if they could take a pic with me, can you believe ‘em?”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I think I’m getting too old for that crap.” he says crankily. 

“I know we just talked about this, but I don’t really know, so, could you tell me how old you are?” they ask carefully.

“Only if you tell me yours.” Bliz says, still making a face.

“Oh, I’m twenty four, I mean twenty five.” 

“It’s alright, I believe you.” he quips sarcastically.  

“I’m serious!” 

“I thought you were Cambria?” 

They just frown at him with mock disapproval until he cracks.   
  
“Haha, fine, fine. I’m actually nineteen, ‘bout to be twenty in a few months.”

They remember a monster year is around a thousand days. “Oh...so only a little bit to go then?”

“Yup.”

 

The two of them spend the next few hours slipping in conversation between the heavy workload of maintaining the store and ringing up clients. Easter is coming up in a couple of days and though business is booming it means the workload is as well.   
  


“So then, are you going to college?” Frisk asks. 

“Uh not right now, I’m tryna help my mum out, so I’m working full time.” 

“Hmm, do you want to go? I’d been thinking about it, but with my memory...maybe they’ll send me all the way back back to highschool!” They both make a distressed face.

“Honestly, I want to go, but I just don’t got the cash.” he says reluctantly, though it's no secret he works various jobs to make ends meet and doesn’t live in the best part of Hotland.

 

They both fantasize for a moment of what they’d study if they indeed had the cash or, in Frisk’s case, their memories sorted. Bliz wishes he could be a candy maker, perhaps open his own shop and help his mother; while Frisk is unsure of what they’d like to major in, but certain they’d enjoy the learning experience nonetheless. 

 

“Hmm, what are your folks like? You don’t talk ‘bout them much.” he asks then.

  
“Uh...my mom is...a teacher, for an elementary. Flowey’s my older brother, he works with her. I don’t really remember my dad.” Frisk says, hoping they sound convinced.

“I’m sorry about that, at least you have your mom and brother, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And your friend?” he adds.

“Yes, he, um, is letting me stay at his place until I get my own.”

“Roommates then?” 

“Uh-huh, literally.”

“O-hoh, so it’s  _ that _ kind of friend.” he wags his eyebrows at them.

“That’s not what I mean! I meant he gave me his room! To sleep in, I mean; he sleeps somewhere else!” they try not to get flustered, but by now he knows just what to say to embarrass them thoroughly. Thankfully the banter seems to keep their mind off the stress of their recovered memories, though it brings to mind the fact they are yet to remember their family.

 

After the shift is done Frisk heads home and prepare themselves to see Sans again, thinking of what to say. Frustration tenses their spine, shouldn’t finding out about their parents be more important than reliving these awful memories? But it’s not just the memories, it’s the fact that he must’ve known from the start that is making them so upset. They know he’s hiding things from them, he always is; but it’s not the same now and the knowing this doesn’t make the bitterness go away. Instead of brooding all the way home, they call their best friend to hear what he has to say, keeping firmly within the subject of their family rather than their memories. 

 

One friend they’re not sure they can trust is already one too many.

 

“But isn’t it messed up that I didn’t think about it until now? I mean, they’re my parents...I should’ve asked from the beginning, even if I don’t remember...I should’ve tried to find them.” 

“Frisk...it’s been a long time.” Floweys says pointedly.

“...I know they’re not...I know. But at least I want to know who they were. What if I have siblings? What if I find them but I still don’t remember them? They’re going to think I didn’t care about them!” they hear him sigh on the other side.

“...Remembering someone isn’t the same as loving them, Frisk. Gosh, just look at me! I’ve had Asriel’s memories all my life, I remembered Toriel, Asgore and Chara. I remembered my house and my favorite flavor of pie. But when I saw her for the first time I knew...I didn’t love her back. Even though I remembered that I loved her before, I wasn’t the same anymore.”

“So what did you do?” they ask quietly,  staring at their own reflection on the train window.

“I let it be...Over time I learned to love her, in my own way...Eventually I told her what happened, it took a while but she understood.”

“I guess. It’s not like I could find my parents anyway, I mean-”

“Of course you can! Tell that lazy bones to do something for once! His brother works with the police, he should be able to find them for you...I think.”

“You mean Papyrus?”

“Yeah! He’s an egotistical idiot, but he’ll always help Sans.”

“Are they really close?” they say, straining to keep calm.

“Who the skelebros? Yeah, of course...Why? Did you dream about him?” he asks, suddenly serious.

“The train’s going to go underground, I’m going to have to call you back. Talk to you later!”   
  
“Frisk?...A-alright talk to you later then!” 

 

Frisk makes their way home, soul flickering vividly with energy. They don’t realize until they reach the building that what they’re feeling is no longer fear, but anger. The keys jangle, clenched in their hand and grinding against their bones. They’re tired of being lied to, tired of their friends keeping things from them under the guise of sparing their feelings. Lying by omission is still lying after all. What they feel brewing in their chest may not be justice but it sure feels a lot like righteousness. 

 

“Sans, I need to speak with you.”

They say before he can retreat to the office after dinner, he stops immediately and sits on the couch, waiting. 

“Sure, kid. Lay it on me.” he says in an attempt to seem relaxed despite the sweat on his brow.

 

Frisk stands there, unsure whether to sit next to him or stand, as if he can understand their distress he scoots over to the end of the couch, they sit at the other end, turning to him. Their hands clenched into tight fists clatter slightly, they mimic a deep breath, knowing it won’t keep the tremble form their voice, but hoping it will make their words easier to say.

 

“I went to Snowdin, the day of the delivery.” they start. He makes a noise to ask them to continue, whilst staring at the floor.

“I remembered something that happened to me, before...I remembered Papyrus...and what he did to me.” they stare at his face intently, so when he finally looks up their eyes meet. His pupils waver and disappear, theirs are shining, ignited in gold.

“...that explains a lot.” he mumbles, numbly.

“N-no it doesn’t...Explain it to me. I want to hear what you have to say to me.” they say, their voice and body shaking audibly with indignation now. They can’t tell if he’s looking at them or not and that is somehow even more upsetting. “Look at me in the face, Sans, and tell me what happened!” tears they didn’t know were there, spill onto their hands but they ignore them.

“...I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be afraid of...of him.” he offers lamely.

“So you were just going to wait till we met in person? When were you going to tell me he... _ he killed me _ ? He killed me a bunch of times and all this time... _ you knew _ . You knew and you didn’t say anything!” they stand now, the flower in their socket glowing and spreading more blooms across their head, their magic erratically releasing a stream of motes, like smoke as they move.

  
Sans stares at them, choking on his words. Not knowing what to say or what to do to appease them, to keep them from hurting any more than they already are. 

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anythin’. I didn’t want-”

“Did I forgive you? Back then did I forgive you?” they ask quietly, eye burning steadily.

“I-I didn’t ask an you didn’t say, that I remember...But you were always kind to me, no matter what, you treated me...you let me help you. You let me take care of you and you made me feel like...like I was good for something.” he struggles with his words, eyes still dark well up with red that streaks down his cheeks like glowing blood. Both his face and soul are twisted by a heavy guilt. The sight makes them pause, enough for them to rein in their magic along with their anger and sit back down.

“I guess I  _ must’ve _ forgiven you if i trusted you so much...So then, why did you hide it all this time?” 

“...I...I dunno.” he lies.

They sit in silence for a while, picking the flowers off their skull and staring at them thoughtfully in their hands.

“I want to remember everything...No matter how bad it is, I’ll just deal with it.” they say firmly. Once the words are out of their mouth they are doubly convinced that they are true. 

“...I’d rather you didn’t.” he murmurs sadly.

 

They clench their their fangs tightly, and their magic even tighter as they remove themselves from the couch and head to the room. They barely close the door before they collapse, hugging their knees to themselves, they put some music on and turn it up, just enough so he can’t hear them sobbing. A few minutes pass until they feel his hand on their shoulder. 

 

“Hey…” 

They don’t reply, he kneels in front of them, sitting on his legs and waits. The music continues to play over the sounds of their crying.

“I’m so  **sorry** ....I was fucking idiot who thought he knew better...didn’t want ya to be scared or stop trusting me...I just want you to be ok.” he admits.

 

They glance at him from between the bones in their forearms, his eyes are glowing bright red, with a hint of blue right at the center and for some reason that gives them hope. They think back on all the time he’s spent with them, all the things he’s done to make sure they’re happy here and they push the anger aside for now.

 

“...I’m sorry too.” they murmur.

“What for? Yer right.” 

“For shouting.”

“Heh, trust me, that’s nowhere near shouting.” Sans chuckles thinking of what his brother considers an ‘indoor voice’.

 

They pull themselves off the floor, sitting up to mirror his position. He stares at them, uncertain; the flower in their eye has calmed down but there are still tears in their sockets. Before he can say anything they wrap their arms around him, nearly knocking him over. He sits back up awkwardly, pulling them back into the hug before they can back away.  

 

“I’m sorry, Frisk, I’m really sorry.”

 

Sans’ hears himself say quietly as his hand moves over their skull soothingly. Frisk’s hands fist on his shirt, face pressed into his chest as they let out the rest of it. Once they are calmer they put their arms around his neck, skulls scraping together softly when they put their chin over his shoulder. 

 

“Feelin’ better?”

Frisk nods into his shoulder, making their skulls scrape together pleasantly. 

“Good.” he says simply.

 

Sans relaxes visibly and they tighten their arms around him, one last time, before sitting on their feet. They glance at the wet stains on his shirt and avert their eyes. He reaches for their shoulder hesitantly,  before he can take his hand back Frisk takes it in theirs and gives it a reassuring squeeze. A one sided smile tugs at his face, then he becomes self-conscious and pulls away.

 

“Thanks for that.” they say, finally without shaking.

“Yer welcome.” 

“Do you um, wanna change and go back downstairs?”

 

Frisk scratches their collarbone with their free hand. Their words suggest they may talk of this later, but if the thought makes Sans anxious it doesn’t show through his tired expression. 

“Yeah, whatever let’s just…yeah.”

 

Frisk opens the door and turns to look at Sans, who stares sadly at the flower blooming out of their eye socket. They realize why and catch the droplets that still hang from its petals in before looking back at his eyes. They see worry there, they see fear, but they also see a small yet stubborn light…

 

A light they know all too well themselves. 

 

They know things will be different from now on, they can see it in his face. Frisk can’t help but smile, a small tired smile, but one that he eagerly returns nonetheless. They take his hand and run their fingers over his knuckles, making a perky clatter, before letting go. The way his eyes widen and the lopsided smile they glimpse before he turns away, give Frisk another reason to smile and a way to stay determined.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drama, all of it. No, not yet. As I said, these are sparklers, not the actual drama bomb. That bomb's been brewing since I started writing this, and I dunno if it's obvious but I really wanna get to it. Hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading, see ya on the next one, you can expect a firework. 
> 
> •̀.̫•́✧


	23. Lying awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk thinks they're ready to remember, no matter how painful those memories might be...but are they, really?

  
  


They sit together in the living room, awkward and tired, watching a slightly boring comedy, its slow pace is mindless and calming. Every now and then Frisk asks him a question; at first he’s reticent but as he warms up to the idea he tells them more about himself and Papyrus, as a truce of sorts. Though Frisk is still shaken up, by the time they go to bed they are tired enough to think they’ll sleep most of the night through. Sans waits by the bedroom door to say goodnight, his smile is still small but at least it’s genuine, so they smile back and go to sleep. 

 

That night sleep falls over them like thick and heavy molasses, pieces of reality filtered through the swirl of time and memory.

 

 

_ They walk amongst the trees, snow drifts delicately around them, they shiver and feel the flower tighten his vines around them, trying in vain to offer warmth. They walk to a small structure barely visible through the white. A wide gate, footsteps in the snow, a familiar voice, a familiar face. _

 

_ They turn around and take his hand.  _

 

_ Pain ignites their arm, running through their spine, wracking spasms make them lose control of their body. They kneel, heart beating erratically until it stutters and stops. The flower screams, but he just stares and smiles still holding their hand.  _

 

**_T h e y  c a n ’ t  w a k e  u p ._ **

 

_ They run through the trees, run through the snow, run behind rocks but eventually he’s there, red scarf pulled by the wind. Impaling, pinning to the floor, tearing limbs, shattering bones, burning with light. They fear the end every time, but there is a moment, right on the edge of disappearing where they lose every sensation in simple acceptance, and in that moment, however brief… _

 

_ They find peace.  _

 

_ They stare up at the snow appearing out of the black above their head and finally everything is silent.  _

 

_ Out the corner of their eye they catch a glimpse of movement. Unable to even turn their head, barely aware of where their body is anymore, they wait.  _

 

_ Another pair of feet.  _

 

_ They look up into a set of sharp teeth, his expression as grim as the one their killer had offered them before. It is a pretense of a smile, with no pleasure, but no guilt either. He stares down at them in the snow, from under the wide gate, from between the trees and over their shoulder. He stares from below as they are lifted into the air, he stares as they are shot from amongst the trees , he just stands in the shadow of their killer, and stares. They stare back, they open their mouth, call out for his help.  _

 

_ But he just  _ **_stares_ ** _ and waits. _

 

_ The terror begins to seep back into their mind, shattering the peaceful illusion of death and with it sound returns to throw their own voice back at them. Screams rip from their throat, unnatural. Tearing limbs. Running they twist their foot, breaking the ankle. They crawl helplessly, hoping that the peace before the end embraces them sooner this time. They turn, trying as always to stall him.  _

 

_ But their killer is not here.  _

 

_ Instead there is  _ **_someone else_ ** _ holding out his hand with an awful expression on his face.  _

 

_ Not a smile, just a show of teeth. _

  
  


 

Unlike any other nightmare, this time when they wake they don’t make a sound or sit up in a panic; instead they lay facing up, body taut and a hand splayed over their sternum so hard it hurts. These images are not rapid and faded, they don’t have to force the thoughts to come forth. They seemed to have been there all along, right under the surface of the memories they’d both shared. Somehow knowing this doesn’t make it any less painful. What they said to Flowey comes back to mind tauntingly. 

 

This is the price of remembering and they had been willing to pay.

 

Frisk untangles their stiff limbs, sits up, fists clenched over their crossed legs. They keep their magic in check but watch the flowers writhe on their wrists, as if they too were in pain. The yellow glow in their ribcage fades in and out steadily but faster than usual. They get up, turn on the lamp and in very small letters write that...that dream in the journal. They don’t go back to sleep, they can’t. Instead they lay staring at the ceiling, hands clasped on their chest, keeping their eye trained on the blackness there rather than the red that occasionally tinges their periphery. 

 

They take their phone and call Flowey, but as the phone goes to message a terrible thought occurs to them.  _ He must’ve known too, he was there _ . The realization almost makes them cry again, it really was unbelievable how far they would go. They call Sylvia instead, she answers after the first few rings.   
  


“Frisk? Is that you?” her voice is sleepy, they notice with some remorse.

 

“Yes.”

 

“What happened, are you alright?” her voice becomes clearer as she sits up on the bed. They hum in agreement not trusting their own voice, she says nothing more and waits.

 

“...Sans told me about Papyrus today.” they start.

 

“Oh, I see. What did you talk about?” she replies carefully.

 

They laugh bitterly. “I found out by myself...that he killed me, many times before.”   
  


“Killed you? Wait, please, explain, I don’t understand how could he-”

 

“I told you about the flowers. They weren’t just growing on me for no reason...back then, a flower would show up every time I died and every time that happened I would go back, days or hours before I died.” they say, almost coldly.

 

“Y-yes you did I just didn’t quite understand that’s...so he didn’t tell you then?” she continues.

 

“No, he didn’t.” the anger from before has run out, instead they feel sickened and disappointed. 

 

“We could sit down and talk, all three of us. Meet me in the office in a few hours, we can work this out.” she suggests, regaining her bearings.

 

“There’s nothing to talk about, he lied to me…”

 

“I’d hoped it would not come to this but we need to sit down and clear all of this up. I’ll call him so he can arrive later than you, you can stay in the office for a bit, collect yourself before-”

 

“Did you know?” they ask suddenly.

 

“Did I know what, exactly?”  

 

“Did you know what...he did? What Sans did to me?” they insist.

 

“I...yes. He told me he’d...hurt you before. He never mentioned the part about time skipping backwards but-”

 

They hang up, the ugly feeling builds up in their chest, bursting from their eye and lighting up the room in its pale light. They ignore the tears and the phone as she calls back persistently. There really is no one they can trust, is there?

 

There might be one person at least. 

 

They sit up on the bed, putting their head in their hands, trying to keep everything together. After a while, Frisk fills their backpack with some clothes, snacks and water from their stash in the desk. They take their journal and their handlink charger, cashing in that three am call.

 

Bliz replies quickly, though something in his voice sounds off, he’s breathing hard and sounds a little angry, they chalk it up to exhaustion and ask for his help. He doesn’t hesitate to offer they stay over; despite not having much space, he can hear the desperation in their voice. He asks for a few hours to pick them up, they offer to pay his tickets but he refuses and so they sit in their room and wait, watching the sun crawl over the horizon through the window. With nothing but their thoughts, they inevitably ruminate into their memories, their head rapid firing images that keep striking their soul. Perhaps the pain would keep them focused, they think, even as they feel their HOPES drain away. 

 

Sans putting his coat on them; shaking their hand at the wide gate; giving them a bath the first time they met; watching the stars through his telescope; watching his magic pierce their chest; crying in his arms no more than a few hours ago. They curl into themselves, muffling the sounds into the pillow, but it was too much to expect him not to notice the violent shuddering of their soul. Too soon, they hear his heavy knuckles knocking briefly on their door.

 

“Is everything ok, kid?” he sounds uneasy. They grind their fangs together, unable to make their voice come out normally.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” the attempt sounds weak, even to them.

“You don’t sound too sure...I’m coming in, cover up if ya need to.” he grumbles.

“NO!” 

They turn to the door, blocking it with a row of long thin bones before he can even open it fully.

“Frisk?” he says, voice strangled. 

 

He stands in the doorway, frozen in place, eyes darting to take it all in: them sitting on the bed with their back pack on their lap, hand glowing and extended trembling towards him. He frowns slightly and takes a step, shortcutting into the room, right beyond the barrier they’d placed. He puts both his hands up as if in surrender and slowly walks over, taking in the dark dents under their sockets and the tear stains on their shirt. 

 

“...Talk to me...did you have another dream?” he asks softly.

For some reason this makes them start sobbing, he kneels next to them and reaches out.   
  
“Don’t come in here...Just, stay away from me!” They almost screech, falling to the floor, clutching their backpack to themselves. They summon more bones, this time spinning around them like a cage, the magic slaps his hand away and keeps him at a distance. Before he say anything else their phone starts to ring, it's Bliz.

“Hello, Cambria? I’m at your apartment, are you ready?”

“...I-I’m coming out, wait for me!” they say hysterically.

“Sure, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. D-do you need me to come up?” he stammers, their tone is making him anxious.

“No!...just wait for me... _ please _ !” 

“I’m right here! I’m not going anywhere ‘till you come out, I swear!” he all but shouts back.

 

They keep him on the line even if they don’t say anything else, he chatters mindlessly about the route back to his house, about his mom, about anything. It's like he’s holding their hand through it all. They stand slowly, dispelling their magic. Sans stares at them, still on the floor, his pupils are huge but almost faded. He reaches for them but they don’t look back as they pass him by and out the door; to their surprise he doesn’t try to stop them. Bliz looks about as nervous as they feel, he too has bags under his eyes but when he hugs them, all they feel is the same old familiarity exuding from him. Even at a time like this, it’s still comforting. 

 

“You don’t have to do that, I’m fine.” they say as they separate to head back to the train station.

“You got me worried…” they think for a moment he’s going to ask them what happened, but he seems to know when to give them space. “Let’s get going, then...We got a couple of hours before our shift starts and a lot of napping to catch up on.”     

 

They nod weakly at him and follow. They take a nap on the train and another on the bus, they make it to the slums of Hotland in time to eat a small breakfast and go to sleep. Bliz’s mother is not at home so they lay back, one of them at each end of the couch. It feels like an instant before the alarm tells them it's time to get ready for work and for once Frisk is glad to be a skeleton and only have to wash their face and teeth. They help Bliz comb his mane and carefully follow him through the alleyways into Waterfall, until they reach the candy store.

 

Bliz’s mother seems unfazed, they are both used to seeing troubled families and don’t ask many questions. Those next few days Frisk helps around the house on their free time, something she seems to appreciate a lot. Despite Mrs. Dedino being taller and green instead of yellow, Frisk can see where Bliz got his cutesy features from. They get calls all throughout the day, they message Flowey, telling him they are safe, but need their space. Days become weeks. Luckily nobody comes looking for them, but Sans messages them everyday without fail. Seeing his dark red light beyond the apartment’s walls every night does nothing to ease Frisk’s anxiety or to keep away the nightmares.  

 

That night, they awake from yet another dream, another memory; by now Sans has befriended them and they are making their way through Waterfall. Their dream self trusts him blindly as he carries them around on his back. But even if their dream self has forgiven him, they still can’t find it in themselves to trust him again. Because of this contrast, facing reality when they wake leaves them feeling tired and bruised. Maybe it took them months to forgive him, or years. With all the times they died and went back, who’s to say how long it took? But even that thought doesn’t really help. They stop thinking about it as best as they can and get up. 

 

It’s sometime after midnight so they walk quietly over to the bathroom, to wash the tears off when they hear a sharp sound, a gasp?

 

“Bliz? Mrs. Dedino?” they ask groggily, noticing the bathroom door is ajar, there’s water running. “Is everything alright?” They ask, louder this time.

 

“C a m b r i a...c-come here!” a strained whisper.

 

They carefully open the door, eye widening at the sight before them. Bliz is sprawled on the shower ledge, the faucet is running and he has one hand in the water, another on his stomach, ash pouring steadily from between his claws.

 

“Oh my god! What happened?!” They kneel in front of him, holding their hands carefully over his own, afraid to touch him. They look up, he’s sweating and a small stream of ash and saliva is dripping from his chin. His wet claw presses on their teeth, asking them to stay quiet. His magic is pulsing through his hands: pain, so sharp they can almost feel it too. 

 

“...get me m-my...knapsack…” he says between clenched teeth. They scramble and bring the bag to him, he points at it and they open it, spilling everything on the floor. They find magic bandages and some candy, they place the candy in his mouth and pull out the bandages. The instant he takes his hand off they see the wound, a gaping hole splitting the plaques on his waist, his body disintegrating around it and spilling ash everywhere.

 

They put their hands on it, willing it to heal, they’d only dealt with small scrapes and this wound is far too big, but through sheer force of will they stop the ashes long enough to wrap the bandages around him. As soon as they’re done he sighs in relief.

 

“...Thanks...Dunno what I’d do without ya.” he says tiredly, as the bandages start glowing and hopefully mend his body.

 

“W-what are friends for?” they repeat his words, earning a smile.

 

They clean the bathroom, flushing the ashes down the shower and putting everything back in his knapsack. They help him over to his bed and sit next to him.

 

“So, what happened to you?”

 

“I uh, went out to move the trash and I saw these kids...I guess they were up to no good and since I caught them, they kinda, you know…”

 

“Beat you up?” they finish, unsure.

 

“That makes me sound like a wimp...but yeah.” he says, closing his eyes.

 

“Bliz...they could’ve killed you that’s-”

 

“Told you this wasn’t a good neighborhood...just, forget about it. I’m fine...it’s ok...” he starts dozing off and they wipe a little left over ash from his cheek, taking in all the scars on his body sadly before leaving to get him some tea. After a few sips he thanks them and closes his eyes. His soul is flickering in pain, but glowing brightly, like a small sun; that should mean he’s ok, no one glows that bright if they’re sick, so after he falls asleep they leave him to it.

 

They go back to the couch and sleep, facing Bliz’s room just in case, they get just a few more hours before another day of work starts. Bliz does seem better the next morning, though he’s still bandaged and slow, he works the register as usual. The shift flies by as Frisk lets the work fill their head, they go to the back to bring out the boxes for re-stocking, lifting crate after crate, using their hands instead of magic and straining in anger. Another advantage to not having muscle is the fact they don’t ache by the end of it, only feel faded and listless as they walk back. Better tired than upset, right?  

 

Bliz is a little ways ahead, waiting for them to catch up when they see  _ him _ . There’s a short skeleton leaning on a low wall that divides the garden nextdoor from the street, his hands in his hoodie pockets, face cast down. They try to circle around but Bliz is obliviously standing in his field of vision, they walk past, grabbing the smaller monster by the arm and walking fast.

 

“Cambria!” 

 

They pause, more out of shock than anything, it’s the first time Sans has called them that name. They know it must be because they are in public, but somehow the gesture upsets them. 

 

“Please...wait.” Sans says when he catches up.

 

They glance at him over their shoulder, Bliz turns back, standing ways away between them. 

 

“Frisk…” Sans says in a lower voice. “Come back to the house, please...I’m sorry for what I did and I’m sorry I hid it. I was-”

 

“Being a fucking idiot?” they repeat his words bitterly. He stares at them wide-eyed before nodding.

 

“That too...but it’s, mostly I was scared that you’d…” he struggles for a moment before his shame comes crawling out of his throat like bile. “I didn’t want you to...hate me.” He looks at them in the eye, his eyes red with a hint of blue, just like before. They are momentarily annoyed by the fact they feel such empathy for him, even now.

 

“I  _ don’t _ hate you. I don’t think I could, really.” they say after a while. “I just can’t believe you lied to me...I want to be alone, let me have  _ that _ at least.” they give him a firm look, before they walk away with Bliz. Once they’re out of his sight, their eye sockets start brimming with frustrated tears. 

 

“You can go ahead if you want, I can get the groceries myself...you’ve had a rough day.” Bliz says after a while.

 

“Are you sure? How’s your stomach?”

 

“Much better, trust me, that’ll be closed by next week. ‘Sides I’m only getting some cereal, milk and bread, even I can manage it, you know that.”

 

“I know, I know just...Thank you.” they say, taking the napkin he hands them and wiping their eye sockets, wondering where he keeps all of them.

 

“You’re welcome. Don’t start dinner without me, ok? See ya in a bit” he hugs them briefly and turns down the street into the market. They veer off to the alleyways, taking a shortcut to the apartment. They walk fast, always looking ahead to make sure they’re not stuck in the alley with someone unpleasant, so it catches them off guard when a purple monster comes out of one of the adjacent alleys and bumps into them with a  grunt.

 

“Sorry!” they exclaim, though they’re the one thrown back while the other monster seems unfazed.

 

“ ‘S fine, I wasn’t lookin where I was goin’ ” a female voice drawls. 

 

They feel a sudden pang in their chest, a familiar sense of recognition, this time tinged in unease. They look behind them, for a moment it feels the same as when Bliz’s magic is near, but they are alone and her voice pulls them back to face her and the nearly blinding orange of her soul.

 

“Do I know ya? ‘Scuse me but ya look awful familiar-like.” she leans a little closer, a street light hitting her triangular sharp teeth. Their spine rattles uneasily, they suddenly recognize that smile from their first day Underground, it’s the cat monster-girl, the one Sans didn’t like. Her teeth are sharper than his, they may not remember her well but they remember what those teeth mean.

 

“I don’t think so, excuse me” they lower their head, keeping the flower in their eye socket in shadow, and walking past her.

 

The uneasy feeling doesn’t leave them and they speed up, glancing behind them as they turn the corner, but she’s not there anymore. But instead of calming them, this makes them even more panicky, they mix up their shortcut in an attempt to lose her, but in doing so they end up farther from the house. The odd feeling they had when they bumped into her never quite leaves their soul and so when they see a dock, they pay a ticket and get on the boat, not even checking where it’s heading.

 

They end up in another back alley, they check their handlink’s gps and realize they went deeper than they meant to, now somewhere between Waterfall and Snowdin. They try to navigate their way out but the gps is off, making them walk in circles, not even this super advanced technology could keep up with these tangled alleys;  so against their better judgement they call Bliz. He directs them, but as they make it out of the alleys and into a small plaza they see her again, purple tail swishing back and forth, her back to them. She looks around and they hide behind a wall before she can see them. 

 

She couldn’t possibly be following them, right?

 

“Oh there ya are flowery skeleton! Heya!” They feel a heavy weight on their shoulder, glancing over to see her paw, her arm then her face. Her lashes are so long, heavy lidded eyes and a curved mouth, like a big cat except the things atop her head are not ears: they’re horns. They slip from her, feeling the way their soul skitters when she lets go.

 

“My bad, I didn’t mean ta scare ya. I just ‘membered, I saw ya with Sans an...ya looked lost. Ya need ma help?” she eyes them carefully, dialing back the smile.

 

“I-I already called my friend, thank you.”

 

“No problem, skelly. If ya want I can walk ya, I’m an old friend o’ Sansy, even if he wants to act like he don’t know me...also-” she sticks two of her large claws in the pockets of her jumper suit and pulls out a wallet. “I’m a copper see? So ya can trust me, I won’t let ya get lost, mah name’s Dhalia.”

 

“Cambria.” they shake her hand, their bones disappearing between the soft pads in her palms.

 

They stare at the police badge she pulls out, it's a handlink attachment, with her handlink on the top of the wallet. They look up her police ID on their own phone and it rings out as legitimate, she seems to be a member of the missing person’s team. Though they are still feeling uneasy around her, they decide to take her help as she leads them through the alleys.

 

Seemingly aware of their discomfort she doesn’t touch them again, instead she talks the whole way through. When they see light at the end of this, ever narrowing tunnel, they feel a wave of relief flood them, she waits on the other side, talking still, but when they walk out they realize they are not in Waterfall. Instead they’re somewhere in the old ruins, an abandoned cave covered in broken puzzles, leaves and rubbish. She just stands there, smiling her sharp toothed smile.

 

“Here we are, finally away from all them cameras. Now, Cambria, was it? How’s about ya be a good skelly and gimme that human soul ya got there?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading!
> 
> Well the first firework's gone off. Hope ya'll are doing well in the aftermath and that all the drama wasn't a turn off 'cause that just a warm up! Boy aren't I a boat of angst, thank gawd this is Underfell amirite? Well sorta. Either way, welcome to SS Fluffangst, I'll be your captain and yes that is an iceberg.
> 
> That said...
> 
> Boom mothafucka!  
> ＼（Ｔ∇Ｔ）／
> 
>  
> 
> That is all.


	24. Selflessly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia corners Frisk demanding they give her the human soul they carry...

  
  


She flashes them a slick smile and her magic, shaped like a cat’s paw, blocks the narrow alley entrance. Before Frisk can even say or do anything she’s cutting the distance between them. She’s fast, but so are they, they dodge her desperately, dropping their bag and moving around the room until their back is to the exit. She doesn’t seem to be stopping, in fact she seems to be just playing with them, pausing her attack to walk over slowly.

 

“Aw, come on skelly, don’t make this harder than ’s gotta be…”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” they press the handlink in their pocket, hoping it will call Bliz, Sans, anyone while they stall her.

 

“Just give it ‘ere...before I hafta  _ pull _ it outta ya.” she saunters over, tail moving almost playfully.

 

Frisk makes a show of lighting a huge cloud of pellets around themselves, it makes her pause for a second and they use it to fire a bone through her blockade and jump through the hole it created. They roll on their back and regain their footing, shooting some bones behind them. As they turn a corner they glimpse her, almost reaching them, they throw another one but she is upon them all the same. They duck, her claws scrape against the stone of the wall, scattering rocks and dust everywhere. 

 

Her paws grasp at them tearing their jacket, they press on, leaving only tatters in her claws. They head deeper and deeper, towards the noise of the crowds, but she keeps catching up and forcing them to turn back; she knows this place much better than they do. The flowers spread across their head like a halo, the light they let off helping them see, but also helping her find them. Frisk fires some bullets at her but other than bother her eyes, they don’t much damage. Another light ahead, they speed up and glance back, a row of bones shields them just in time as her claws slash over their back; their magic shatters, pushing them back.

 

“Ya sure know how to dodge, skelly. Too bad ya don’t know how ta fight!” She laughs lightly, not even breaking a sweat despite the fact they are already shaking from the strain.

 

Dahlia prowls around them, making jabs at their shield. She’s clearly dragging this on until they tire out, Frisk steadily moves deeper into the cavern, looking for another exit, but she keeps cornering them. Suddenly they see a flash of movement from behind her and though she tries to dodge, there is a loud clang and she’s on the floor. 

 

 

Bliz is standing over her, holding a metal pipe.

 

 

“Are you alright?” he pants, walking over handing them their recovered backpack. They nod, releasing their shield with a shudder. 

 

“She...I t-think she was trying to kill me.” they gasp out, grasping their ribcage.

 

“She looks like a frigging creep, let’s get outta here.”

 

“...Bliz we have to c-call the police she’s-” they pull their handlink out but he puts his hand over it.

 

“Don’t waste your time, they won’t come here unless someone’s actually hurt...we’re in the bad neighborhoods remember?” he reminds them bitterly, leading them out. Halfway out of the alleys they stop him. 

 

“But she’s a cop! We need to-” before they can finish he pulls them down by the shoulders. They feel the flowers on their head being torn off for a second before the world tilts sideways in a blur. Next thing they know they are in another alley, Dahlia rushing towards them from ways away. 

 

“That is one persistent bitch. Hold on!” He lifts them into his arms, they barely have time to register what he says when they are flung into his chest as he rushes through the alleys, sickeningly fast and bouncing off the walls at the turns. In a matter of minutes they’re in a brightly lit chamber; ancient columns rise up into the cavern ceiling covered in moss, majestic despite their disuse. Sunlight filters down from a sliver way up high, casting some light on the golden flowers on the ground, they must be in one of the chambers on the way to the grave. 

 

“Lemme...catch my...breath for a mo…” he puts them on the floor gently and pulls out some monster candy, chewing vigorously. It looks like the same candy he ate last night: medicinal monster food. Frisk notices the ashes on his feet, the cracks on his talons: he’s hurt.    
  


Then it registers.

 

“Bliz...h-how did we get here? What did you do?” 

 

“...I uh, ran. Guess I’m faster than I thought.” he says, but doesn’t hold their gaze.

 

“Bliz...”

 

“Call your friend.” he says suddenly serious again.

 

“What?”

 

“Call Sans, tell him to come here right now!” he shoves more candy in his mouth and pushes them behind him.

 

There, in one of the cavern’s exits is Dahlia. She doesn’t give them any more time, launching both magic and her claws at them. Bliz moves faster than either of them can see, kicking her in the stomach. She slides a few meters back, bent in half, holding her belly and turning her eyes to him.

 

“Well ain’t ya cute? Where did ya get that human soul, lizard boy? Now everyone’s got one! Was there a bargain sale no one told me ‘bout?” she says sarcastically catching her breath.

 

Frisk turns to him questioningly, but the piercing look he sends them just tells them to look for an opening and run. A blinding flash of yellow and a bullet flies from his chest towards her, instead of dodging she runs into it and it slips through her, making her falter, but not stop. He dodges her claws, flashing in and out of sight as he does so. Frisk tries to aim an attack at her but gives up, with how fast they’re both moving, they have no way of making sure they’ll hit. They call Sans instead, he replies fast and hurriedly asks them for directions, they describe what they see around them and urge him to hurry. Now Dahlia is prowling back and forth, trying to run past Bliz  and herding them both into the back end of the cavern, away from the exits. 

 

A few painful minutes pass, the fight drags on, neither monster budges from their positions, she dodges all of Frisk’s attacks.  Bliz is struggling to keep up with her but refuses to let her get past him. Frisk sees him then in one of the exits; his eye has dark red flames trailing after him eerily. The next second bone shards are flying at Dahlia, she dodges most and runs towards the last; like before the magic goes through her, coming out the other side to pierce the floor instead. Then he’s standing in front of them, a wall of bones surrounds them both as he glances over them desperately.

 

“You alright? Are ya hurt?” he asks, grabbing their shoulders hard. 

 

They shake their head. “I’m alright...she just won’t let us go…”

 

“That crazy-”

 

“Get u-us out of here, please.” they ask.

 

He nods at them, eyes grim and fangs bared and turns back to the fight.

 

“This is gonna drag, you know? I’m too fast for you and I can’t touch you ‘cause of that trick you keep pulling.” Bliz growls finally catching his breath and pushing her farther back.   
  


“Then let’s cut the crap and hand me that soul, cutie.”she purrs.   
  


“After you tried to kill my friend?...I don’t think so!” he shouts at her, clearly irate.

 

“So much for not lettin’ it drag.” She mutters through gritted teeth as she moves through the bullets he keeps firing as he zigzags closer, only a streak of color visible in his path. Once he’s close things get tougher, she’s better at close quarters than he is and knows how to take a punch. The smaller monster is forced to back away with a few well-placed jabs and kicks. Seeing this Sans backs away slowly, pulling Frisk close.   
  


“Don’t! Don’t you dare leave him alone, help him too!” they say releasing their arms from his claws.

 

“I can’t let her take you!” he screams, still trying to shortcut them out of there, they gawk at him almost scared at his intensity. Dahlia takes that moment of distraction to push past Bliz, paws reaching for their soul. A scream and a horrible sound later dust spirals out between Dahlia and Frisk. 

 

The tips of her claws, extended with magic, are peeking from Blitz’s back. Her grin turns into a bitter snarl.

 

“Guess all I had to do was wait.” she says grimly.

  
Frisk startles at a horribly sharp sound that cuts through the cavern. Without ever having heard it they know it’s the sound a soul makes when it breaks. She pulls her claws out of his chest, using her leg to kick his body away as she tears a shining yellow soul from his body. 

 

“Cambria...r-run!” he manages, his chest turns white and the color spreads quickly through his body as if he were a victim of Medusa turning to stone. His mouth keeps moving, ashen eyes looking at Frisk, until he crumbles to the floor as white ashes.  

 

Sans grips their arm tightly and shoves them even farther behind him. Frisk screams trying to reach out to someone that is no longer there.

 

Their magic flares dangerously, a barrage of shapeless shards and bullets fire aimlessly at Dahlia, but she leaps back and out of reach. Once there she turns her head up and carefully places the soul upon her tongue, before swallowing it whole. Her body tenses and her eyes send out vivid streams of yellow light before she’s grinning wildly and running towards them. She’s a blur and a barrage of red bones try to cut her off as she closes in. She’s next to them in an instant, barely skidding to a stop, but a shadow lurking behind them releases a blinding flash of red with an ear splitting screech. It forces her to move out of the way, and leaves a charred path in the space between them, the flowers start to burn and the stones under them are molten red.

 

They can hear her laughing brokenly from ways away again, bones are floating around them in a circle, giving some protection as they wait for the smoke to clear. A dragon-like skull floats over their heads, as if eager to finish what it started, chittering with the energy  brewing in its deadly maw.   

 

“Well Sans, I didn’t know ya had it in ya! I don’t want any trouble...I just want that human soul ya got there...If yer not gonna use it... Can’t ya just hand it over?” She seems to be at different places every time she speaks, Sans growls and spins the bones faster clearing the air for them to see her zipping this way and that, eyes trained on them.

 

“ I don’t know what yer talking about but I’ll tell ya this: If ya keep going the way you’re going, I’m gonna give you a little vacation, somewhere deep and dark where no one will ever find you and I guarantee ya, I’m gonna have a **great** time doin’ it.” Sans growls in a low and terrible voice, sending a clatter over Frisk’s spine.

 

“I don’t wanna fight, all I want is that extra soul, you got two so you won’t die without it. No harm done! See, I’m just curious about yer friend’s magic.” She says hungrily, her fingers waggle as if testing out how it would feel to hold another soul, her claws are still covered in ashes.

 

“Well you know what they say about curiosity and cats.” he growls.

 

“Oh, certainly: curiosity killed the cat…” 

 

Sans’ eye flares up, the glowing mouth of a dragon skull lighting him gory red as he readies himself.

 

“….but satisfaction brought it back!” She finishes with a cheshire grin splitting her face. In an moment she’s rushing them, claws slicing through magic and bone. But Sans, releases his attacks and pulls both of them both into the void. They fall through the darkness, sluggishly spinning as they hold onto each other through the nothingness. 

 

They land harshly on the ground, face down on a grassy hill. They are ways away from the exit and can hear the drone of many voices as the crowd of visitors enters the Underground. Sans pants harshly, pushing himself up with effort and reaching out to help Frisk. There’s nothing in their eye sockets but tears, their only pupil has gone out.

 

“Did she get ya? Are you...ok?” he says feeling stupid for even asking. They shake their head at him stiffly, holding their arm tightly as if to keep themselves together. He nods understandingly, but takes a moment to scan their soul. Their body at least is fine, their soul is another story though, at least they’re not about to Fall. He lets the fire in his eye go out and tries to regain his composure, wiping copious amounts of sweat from his brow.

 

“We gotta move…catch the bus...back to town…come on.” he says between labored breaths.

 

He herds them in front of him and at first they let him, only to turn around suddenly, eyes focusing on his limp left arm. He tries to shift it out of view but they are not deterred and move closer. His sleeve is in tatters and the bones of his forearm are shattered, some slim shards are all that’s holding it together and dust streams freely to the ground. Frisk gingerly holds the top and bottom of his forearm together, kneeling down to get a closer look. 

 

“It's fine, I can get it fixed when we get home. Come on, we gotta go.” he grits his teeth and nudges them, walking down the hill briskly. Frisk glances worriedly at the small trail of dust  he leaves behind himself as they reach the stop and catch the first bus down the mountain. They sit at the very back, Frisk cradling Sans’  injured arm on their lap, their thin hands wrap gently around it as they wish they could heal him. They remember doing the same with Bliz just a few hours back, before stubbornly focusing their soul on passing their magic onto his arm. 

 

By the time they get on the train Sans is slouched over, covered in sweat; the light in his eyes unfocused as he glares forward. He must be in pain, the thought spurs them to pour more effort into their attempt. They close their eyes and repeat in their head over and over, their wish for him to heal. By the time they reach the town Frisk is drained and struggles to stand; but when they pull their hands away his arm is set stiffly back into shape, covered in the same yellow flowers they are. Sans can’t suppress a grimace from forming on his face as he steps off the bus; using his claws he tears them off and gawks. His arm is deeply cracked and hanging uselessly, but whole. Awed, he turns to Frisk who gives him an exhausted look. He shakes his head with a frustrated growl and puts his good arm on their back leading them to the house.

 

“Thanks. Just don’t do that again, you could hurt yerself…let’s just go home and we’ll figure something out.”   
  


They nod and follow him, too tired and sad to argue or even move, but never slackening their pace. Sans is on the phone and muttering angrily at who they can only assume is Papyrus. It seemed the other skeleton would be visiting them sooner than expected, they realize. Only yesterday the idea of meeting the monster that killed them would have terrified them, right now even that seems insignificant. They thought they’d never forgive Sans and Papyrus, but it feels like an old nightmare, useless and irrelevant compared to the sickening feeling of watching their friend…   
  


They can’t think about it now. They need to make it to the house.

 

Frisk can’t remember how they made it upstairs, they’re dragged around by Sans who leads them to their room before he starts scrambling all over the apartment. Packing. They go back to their room, feeling like an alien seeing it for the first time, curl up on the bed and for once, they are glad they don’t need to breathe. They push their face into the pillow and scream until their voice fades to nothing. 

  
  


 

Papyrus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A monster eating another monster’s soul? It was ludicrous! But Sans never joked like this, and the way his voice shook told him it was urgent. He prepared an escort for them to Toriel’s house until he could fly there that night.

 

“Thanks bro.” 

 

“I’m glad I could help, Sans. I’ll send out a warrant, she’ll be taken in for questioning immediately, officer or no, we can’t let this escalate..How is your friend doing?” 

 

“They’re....hanging in there. The monster she killed was their friend.”

 

“T-that’s awful! That poor monster...And the ashes! I have to send someone to collect them! We will certainly be able to prosecute her then!”

 

“I know but before ya go there’s...something you gotta know.” he says reluctantly.

 

“Yes, brother?”

 

“...my friend?...they’re the human that broke the barrier. They’re Frisk.” 

 

“That’s...not very funny, Sans and frankly I think it's highly innaprop-”

 

“I’m not messing ‘round! Just,  _ please _ , I’m asking you as a favor, bro. Tone it down ‘round them and...help me keep ‘em safe.” he asks with a grave voice.

 

“I...I don’t understand what’s happening completely, but I will help you with whatever you need, always! I need to go now. See you soon brother and stay safe!” Papyrus says sincerely.

 

After saying goodbye Sans moves around the house, calls Toriel and packs their bags. He goes into the room, pulls the torn jacket from their frame carefully, taking their journal from its chest pocket.  There are jagged tears on the leather, where she tried to claw at them, he ignores how his hands are shaking as he puts it away in their bag. He talks softly, shortcuts them outside where an SUV is already waiting. Armed monsters and humans escort them to Toriel’s estate. Frisk doesn’t make a sound; their eye stays empty and black until they fall asleep in the backseat, leaning away from him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now I'm not that sure the fireworks were a good idea. From the beginning I knew this character would die. Somewhere along the way I thought that killing off a side character, however heroically they died wouldn't have much impact other than making the antagonist seem evil.
> 
> But I hate things that are black and white. Why should the antagonist be unrelentingly evil? Why should a death be heroic because they died protecting someone else? It's heroic to die for a stranger but its no less heroic to die for a friend.
> 
> I wanted Frisk to feel the loss, and I wanted this character's life to be something more than a throwaway scene where someone just happened to die. I hope I achieved that cause by the end of this I didn't wanna kill him.
> 
> Hope you still enjoyed it nonetheless and see ya next chap. Thanks for reading.
> 
> (Now lemme get my shit back together.)
> 
> (╥ᆺ╥；)


	25. Neutral Rationale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's little over a week since that day in the ruins, Frisk and Sans are still reeling...

  
  


Toriel pours two cups of tea, placing a small slice of pie on each plate and waits. He seems to have remembered his manners, as he opens the door and sits before her quietly, much better than just appearing out of nowhere. His eyes are but invisible and the underside of his sockets looks bruised. She shakes her head and gestures him to sit. She talks idly for a while before broaching the subject.

 

“They seem calmer now...they’ve started eating again at least.”

 

He just nods in response.

 

“I think you should speak with them...clear the air between the two of you. They can’t avoid you or Papyrus forever. The sooner you talk about this, the better it will be; you both need to be prepared for when you are to move.” she says gently.

 

“I’m not planning on moving.” 

 

“Papyrus and I think it would be best to be somewhere different...They still haven’t found her.”

 

“It’s only been a week, course they haven’t...‘s still no reason to move in with Paps, especially since...nevermind.” he gulps down the tea hastily.

 

“They need your support, Sans...they are going through a very difficult situation. They need to know they can trust you again, like we all trust you. Regardless of your tendency to hoard secrets...I’ve always believed your heart was in the right place.”

 

“It’s not just that...they’re also upset ‘cause we didn’t let them go to the Farewell.”

 

“The service for their friend? Yes, it’s understandable. Papyrus did not want them to be exposed, in case she came back.” she says, gazing out the window to her well tended garden. 

 

“I know that, but they still...I wanna wait ‘till they’re better before we leave. Thanks for the tea.” he finishes drily, leaving the room.

 

He wanders around the house aimlessly, trying in vain to sense their soul through the walls of the fairly sized house. The stomping alerts him of his brother’s presence before he even sees him.

 

“Brother! Good to see you! How’s that arm doing?” Papyrus basically shouts, leaning down to sling an arm over his shoulders.

 

“It’s fine, Tori fixed it when I got here, ‘member?”

 

“Yes, I know that, but I was hoping the scar would fade away. Though it adds a lot of character to your look! Anyways, what are you doing gallivanting around here? Let’s go upstairs, I’m sure your friend  could use some company!”

 

“Bro, yer not goin’ up there.  Neither of us is.” he growls.

 

“Fine! You’re such a grump all the time. I’ll be checking on the guards then!” says the warden, heading upstairs.

 

“Pap.”

 

“Yes, brother?” he responds innocently.

 

“The guards are thataway.” Sans points over his shoulder.

 

 

Papyrus breaks into polite laughter, failing another attempt to take a peek at Frisk; he still doesn’t believe they’re the same person he met all those years ago. Sans keeps an eye on him until he leaves  and gets ready to help with dinner. He sets aside food for Frisk but doesn’t bother putting it on the table. They hadn’t left their room since the day they got here; so it is with no shortage of surprise that they all stare as they come down the stairs, Flowey hanging from their hip in his usual satchel.

 

 

“Hi.” they say simply and walk over to sit right next to Papyrus, who just stares with his jaw hanging open.

 

“It’s...very nice to have you here, Frisk, let me get your plate.” Toriel says tactfully.

 

“Thank you.” they say, their voice raspy and low.

 

They continue their meal awkwardly, letting Papyrus and Flowey lead the conversation. Sans sits ways away, trying not to stare at them. Though they look worse for wear, their face hollowed, bones brittle and flowers all but gone; they seem calmer. As they finish up he catches a strange scene from across the table. Frisk has their hand on Papyrus’ forearm and he’s leaning down as they whisper something to him.

 

“Well, this meal was truly delicious, your majesty! I am very grateful and full! Truly a feast worthy of the Great Chef Papyrus!” he says standing suddenly.

 

“You’re welcome, dear, but you know you can call me Toriel.”   


  
“Of course, your majesty, Mrs. Toriel! Now I must work some of this energy off. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be showing our guest around!”

 

“Paps…” Sans gets up, tension written all over his body.

 

Neither of them pause, Frisk excuses themselves and follows Papyrus out, he’s about to go after them when Toriel grasps his arm. He turns to her with flames in his eye.

 

“Leave them...Let them talk, you need to calm yourself.”

 

“Ya don’t understand.” he growls, reluctantly letting her pull him back into his seat.   
  


“I do...trust me.” She lets go of his arm slowly, staring into his eyes intently. “I know what it feels like to love someone so much you wish you could put a wall between them and anything that might hurt them. But the truth is living behind that wall, isn’t living at all...Loving someone also means you know when to let them go. It shows you see them as their own person and respect their choices. Even if it is a tough choice to make” she says, staring at the direction her son and his friends disappeared down the hall.   
  


 

 

Frisk expected to feel fear, perhaps hatred...but instead there is only a feeling of misplacement and loss. Be it because it was a nightmare or because of all the years that passed, Papyrus is just too different in person. He is cheerful and friendly, he likes cooking and is terribly in love with his husband, showing picture after picture of them together on his handlink. He is overly confident and proud of his achievements, but spends a good part of his day helping other people. It's almost hard to believe he was once a killer.

 

“Mr. Papyrus...I need to tell you something.” both the skeleton and the flower turn to them in surprise.

 

“Hmm, no one’s ever called me Mr. Papyrus before, it’s nice...Proceed, tiny skeleton!”

 

“Frisk, are you sure you want to do this?” Flowey asks, they just nod in response, opening the door to the small library and leading them inside. They sit at the only table, Papyrus stretching comically over it, even while sitting. They look up at him, his eyes are orange, sharp but warm, one eye socket has a crack running deeply through, showing the black underneath. He’s waiting patiently, staring attentively.

 

They pull out the journal from their new jacket and tell him everything, from the moment they awoke on the grave, to the nightmares and visions they’ve gathered in these months. He asks brief questions but otherwise doesn’t interrupt them; when they are finished he carefully reaches out and pats their forearm. Frisk looks up and he’s offering them a handmade handkerchief. They don’t know what to say and wipe their tears in silence. When they open their eyes he’s standing and they crane their neck to catch a strained expression on his face, for the first time his eyes are downcast and he is sweating.

 

“Tiny skelet-Frisk, there is something I wish to tell you as well.” he starts.

 

“Go ahead.” 

 

Without warning he is suddenly kneeling in front of them, head bent over one of his bony knees.

 

“I WANT TO OFFER YOU MY SINCEREST APOLOGY!” he practically shouts. They stare wide eyed, not sure what to say before he continues, thankfully in a lower volume. “Though I wanted to collect humans souls to free us from the Underground, I was unnecessarily cruel and did not consider other options before hurting you...I don’t really understand your entire story but I want to apologize for all the times I did hurt you!”

 

They stay silent, oddly conflicted. Just like when they met Toriel for the first time, this person was so similar yet so different to what they remembered. They realize to their own chagrin that the reason they forgave him before was because it was irrelevant. This version of Papyrus that knelt before them had tried, but failed to kill them...there was no point in holding it against him, when he couldn’t even remember what he did. In the end holding onto those memories would only make them bitter, them and no one else. 

 

“...Thank you...for apologizing.” they say simply, admitting to themselves that forgiving him would take more time. He looks up at them, the lights in his eyes are incredibly bright as he nods.

 

“I admit I was a downright fool and I have learned many things since then. I have not made the mistake of hurting anyone unnecessarily again.”

 

“...I’m glad you learned from it...Thank you for listening to me.”

 

“It was a most interesting story, and I’ve been curious all this time, of the monster that moved in with my brother...I’m very glad it’s you!” he exclaims getting back on his feet and straightening his clothes.

 

They stare at him, still too surprised at his excitable nature to keep up. True to his word, he takes them through the rest of the house, showing them the various rooms, gardens and security measures. He seems extremely proud of the system he set up, together with Dr. Alphys. 

 

“On the matter of your dreams...I think it would be best if the rest of us were informed of this occurrence. It might explain why Dahlia targeted you and...your friend. I’m certain Alphys could help us get some answers and I would feel much better if you and my brother were close by.”

 

“We’d have to move in with you?” they ask nervously.

 

“Golly, I hope not! Seeing those two lovebirds over the holidays is enough!” Flowey mutters.

 

“You could have your own place close to ours, Mettaton insisted on a big house, so you would have your own space!” he shows them some pictures on his phone. Papyrus’ house was more accurately described as a mansion. 

 

“We’re going to have to talk to Sans.” they state, Papyrus nods reassuringly and Flowey wraps himself tighter around them, as if preparing for the inevitable.   
  


  
  


 

Back in the city, inside one of the offices of the Supreme Court of Wyoming, stands a hare-like monster before a group of government officials, both human and monster. His suit is impeccably clean, but still showed signs of wear; he tried not to fidget with his shirt but still felt the self-conscious delusion that they were staring at the scars there.

 

“Wallace Hareton, at this moment all of the legal regulations about these types of emissions fall under the human branches of the Jerrian Act of Monster Rights. Though we are aware these gas emissions are cause for concern, for both humans and monsters, the measures taken to deal with the situation fall under human jurisdiction. As such, we cannot accept your proposal.” says one of the monsters in the panel. His features sagging with age, he peers over a pair of red glasses to to look at him with pity.

 

Wallace accepts the statement with a nod, the subsequent closing of the meeting just a blur of fake politeness and disgruntled handshaking. He takes the first of four trains and busses from the city back to the outskirts, about seven hours just to get home. He eats the spinach and alfalfa salad his girlfriend packed him, ignoring the obnoxious comments of the humans that share the train with him. A child tried to pet him again today, thankfully shooed away by its mother before a cold look was necessary.

 

He tightens his collar and sleeves one more time before leaving the train. It's already late night as he makes it to Mt. Ebbot. Taking the boat and winding alleys to the nearest shop district, he can't wait to get to his tiny apartment near the wall. At this hour everyone is drinking or sneaking off to do something unseemly, he holds his briefcase tightly as he gets his groceries.   

 

Wallace walks through the last of the shop-filled streets, grocery bags heavy in his hands. Eyes unfocused, his concerns for his girlfriend’s recent legal issues and the meeting, consuming all of his attention. With the scent of perfume making his nose twitch a second too late, he bumps into a couple, making one of them drop their bags. He puts his belongings aside, bows his head politely and tries to help but a strong hand slaps his away. 

 

“Watch where you’re going asshole!” It's a human, a man standing between him and the female human who dropped her bags, her mate surely. The monster apologizes again, the man says he doesn’t really seem sorry. The monster ignores him until the spittle flinging creature finishes their insults and backs away from his face. He picks up the groceries the man so surreptitiously kicked away and continues his walk home. His apartment is nestled there, in the edge of the the old ruins; amongst tightly packed houses rebuilt from the old citadel, so close to Snowdin that the snow pours over the wall and into the streets. 

 

He shuffles his paws, to keep from touching the cobblestone sleek with ice. He opens the door and walks in, places his bags and briefcase on the table and sits facing the door. Running a hand over his long  ears he takes off his foggy glasses and wipes them on his shirt. Breathing deeply he resists the urge to pull a cigarette from his pocket, settling for waiting until the numbness in his limbs is unbearable enough to excuse lighting the chimney. He’s about to stand when a shadow creeps up behind him, easing a clawed hand over his throat.

 

“Ya should close the door after ya, hunny-bun. Why, anyone could sneak in.” her voice is maliciously soft, making his ears twitch. He can feel the warmth of her cheek even though she isn’t touching him.

 

“I just don’t have anything in particular that’s worth stealing.” he says evenly.

 

“I wouldn’t say that...I see plenty o’ things worth stealin’.” Dahlia slinks around him, claws firmly on his shoulder, yellow eyes glinting in the dim light from the window. She eyes the rabbit monster hungrily, showing off her sharp teeth when she catches him eyeing them warily.

 

“I thought canonically cats preferred to hunt mice, not rabbits.” he leans his face away from her claws carefully as puts his glasses back on his nose.

 

“Dat’s a common misconception...some hunters go for an easy catch...” She flicks his glasses off with a claw, placing them on the table behind him and leaning in until their noses are almost touching. “Me? I love a challenge.” 

 

He tilts his face and kisses her suddenly, catching her off guard and pulling her onto his lap, making the chair creak. She returns the kiss purring lightly, before walking away to turn on the magic flow into the chimney to start a fire. 

 

“It's damn cold in ‘ere, how can ya stand it?” she says teasingly, he shrugs at her and puts away their groceries. 

 

“You’re warm enough for the both of us.” he says simply, wrapping his arms around her. She turns in his embrace and leans into his chest, her arms wrapped loosely around his waist. 

 

“Yer extra cuddly tonight... did somethin happen?” she asks. 

 

He shrugs, the uneasy thrum of his soul is all the answer she needs. She clicks her tongue in annoyance before pulling off his tie and throwing it to the only couch in the small apartment. He tries to  retrieve it but she grips his waist firmly. He knows better than to argue so he unbuttons his shirt, because she can’t do it without tearing it, and he can’t afford to lose any more shirts. They undress in the short distance to the bathroom, while she chatters away about her day and Wallace lets himself be distracted. They fill the tub and slip in together, becoming quieter as they gently bathe each other.

 

 

Dahlia sits in the water, rubbing his back absentmindedly, running through her memories as she does so. At this point it is like leafing through a book she read as a child, feeling detached from the story told inside, wondering just how it used to be so meaningful in the first place. When officer Barker died on that mission she’d felt like the world had come to an end when in fact it had just begun moving forward.

 

His ashes on her claws, the murderer they’d tracked down getting away. Unlike with a human, the autopsy would not reveal how cruelly Barker had been shot in the back, this small respite for his soul was all that was left of the monster that had trained and worked with her for the last twenty years. She screamed, not even hearing the orders her superior yelled from the radio and into her ear. 

 

A blinding orange flash, the loud hum of magic building up until it was all she could hear. The pounding in her chest collided with a burning rage that shook her, filling her soul fit to bursting and making the fear she still felt fuel her righteousness. Shakily she stood and scented the human, adrenaline making his musk bitter and sharp. She replied into the communicator and ran after him on all fours. He was running fast, one hand still holding the gun. She dashed up the alley walls and leapt at him from above, he turned and with remarkable reflexes shot her right in the head. 

 

She, too caught up in mauling him, had no time to move away, feeling the heated metal slip into and past her skull with a shudder. Panting above his body, her claws caught in his sternum, she heard the casing of the bullet hit the concrete. She was still here, the fire in her soul still burning; making it so that despite the terror, she held him in her claws until the fluttering in his chest stopped. 

 

If she hadn’t found her courage back then, she would’ve had to spend her entire life just surviving instead of living. Finding a way to make sure monsters like her never had to fear again, was the only thing that mattered; regardless of the cost or the consequences, she knew since that day she would pay any price...gladly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally at that halfway point, well I'm hoping it is anyway. Remember what I said about hating those black and white, good vs evil stories? This is my take on that. I hate antagonists who are pure evil, as I hate heroes that are all 'good'; that's unrealistic and only works in very few cases. I like multifaceted characters and so here we are. The story is more or less set up and now its time for it to start getting to business. 
> 
> There's a lot of questions about Dahlia, why she's stealing souls and all that but also about Frisk's memories that haven't been completely recovered. Trust me I'll do by best to answer them, but for the skele-peeps those answers will not come easily. Stick around and I'll see ya next chap, thanks for reading!
> 
> (ό‿ὸ)ﾉ
> 
>  
> 
> (Also in case anyone is wondering where the fuck Wallace came from, just take a look around Snowdin and I'm sure you'll see him and his sister...) Dunno if this is funny or fucked up.


	26. The sound of settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and Sans make their way to Papyrus' and Mettaton's home, but things have changed between them...

Dahlia runs through the top floor, making sure not to bump into any of the guards, she’s close, she can feel it so much clearer now. Even damaged their soul is like a beacon compared to all the others. When suddenly the flower skeleton disappears, she has to bounce off the wall on all four legs and back to the floor just to stop herself. They’re below her now...then they’re gone. So it wasn’t a trick, that cheeky bastard could actually teleport. But magic has its limits, he couldn’t have taken them too far and a house this well guarded was bound to have an escape route or a safe room.

   
She’s about to dive to the first floor when she hears him, inside the house, he should still be doing his rounds outside, but of course he wouldn’t be so predictable, after all he was the ex-captain of the Royal Guard. That’s a good a sign as any to leave, she runs towards the soldier firing at her, letting the bullets pass through her body, at least they're less painful than magic. She forces him to fire at the window then slams his body repeatedly against it to weaken the frame of the safety glass. A golden bullet fires from her soul piercing the glass, it seems they can't contain anything but monster magic. She finally jumps out, the guards still at her heels and heads into the woods. It’s time to look for other options, while she still has time.   


Toriel arrives not even a minute after Sans left, she unlocks the door and rushes in with Flowey in his satchel, wrapped on her back and peering over her shoulder defensively.  


“Are you alright, child?” she asks, grasping their shoulders and looking them over.  


“...Yeah, I’m alright, are you two okay?” Frisk replies.  


“We’re fine, Frisk...But I’m starting to think Papyrus was right. She’s not going to stop chasing you around...How did she even find us all the way out here?” Flowey chatters warily.  


“She used to work as a tracker for the Royal Guard. It’s to be expected she would be good at this sort of thing. We thought something like this could happen, just not so soon...” Toriel sits on the futon, sighing heavily. Flowey returns to his pot, glancing at the two of them in turn.  


Even through the multiple layers of the protective walls, they can hear the muted sound of gunshots upstairs. Frisk fidgets and paces, looking at the ceiling with their eye socket closed, most likely keeping track of the fighting.  


“What now, then?” the flower asks after a few minutes.  


“For now we wait...After this is done, we need to have a talk, all of us.” She replies.  


“She escaped again...We’re moving with Papyrus aren’t we?” Frisk says, finally turning to them.  


“It is not certain yet, we will sit down have a talk about it to see what we decide together.” She says calmly, patting the space beside her.  


Toriel can already see that excluding them from these decisions is taking its toll, it’s time she let’s them be a part of this. They sit next to her, making the motions of a sigh, she finds it strangely endearing and pulls them closer by the shoulder.   


“I want you to understand that the reason why we do these things is because we are concerned for your safety. We are all part of your family now...and perhaps its hard for us sometimes to see you as an adult, because for a monster you are still just so very young…” They look up at her with surprise, they hadn’t really thought of it that way. “Yet your mind is not that of a child; I’m aware that as a human you would already be old enough to make your own choices, and we need to learn to respect that.” They’re not sure what to say, but she seems unfazed, holding them close until finally the panic room door opens again.  
  
  


The attack didn’t leave as much damage as they thought it would, within a few hours most of the things are repaired, the guards are back in place and they all find themselves having the meeting they had continuously postponed. They briefly discuss Frisk’s memories and the fact Dahlia is after their human soul. Finding what happened to the other human souls after the barrier broke will take time; but until then, their priority is to make sure Frisk is safe. Without much discussion and much to his excitement, they will be moving in with Papyrus as soon as they can.  


Toriel has arranged for Alphys and her team to investigate the history of the barrier and how it may have used the human souls. The doctor eagerly agreed and hoped that in a matter of a weeks she would be able to personally examine Frisk to better understand the situation. The following days are a blur of Sans shadowing Frisk and both of them gathering their belongings.  
Papyrus plans their trip and the security measures; while Flowey all but clings to Frisk, hoping they will take him along. The argument the flower had with Toriel over this was anything but pretty, but in the end she decided it was best that her son stay by her side and perhaps eventually join Alphys in her research. Overtime he agreed, but was no less distraught at the fact he had to be separated from Frisk, possibly for months.   


“So, is everything ready, then?” Flowey asks casually.  


“Pretty much. Last thing is I won't get my handlink until we get to his house. Hr gave us these in the meantime.” Frisk pulls out a small and thin black handlink, without an ID. A secure private line.  


“Can I still call you?”   


“I guess you can when we get there. They changed our numbers and a bunch of other things in case...she was using it to track us before.” they say tensely.  


“For once I’m glad the skeleton brothers are so paranoid...Still, I wish I could go with you.” he says leaning his head close, they hug him tight.   


“Me too...I’ll call you once a week, I promise.”  


“Every week? Why not every day?!” he hisses, gnawing at their jacket, they laugh and fake a scream rolling on the couch with him.  


“Kidding...Say, how are your dreams lately?”  
  


“They’ve been...fine. I can’t really see much in these. Guess they must’ve been at the point I was blind...I kind of imagine what everything looked like but it doesn’t really work... Mettaton looks nothing like I thought he would. There’s also this fishy woman from Waterfall...it’s all making less sense now it’s… all just really blurry.”  


He stares at them pensively for a long while before advising they leave it be for now. They spend their last afternoon together watching one of Flowey’s favorite movies, about a girl, a faun and a dark, magical labyrinth. Though the tale is grim, violent even, the ending fills Frisk with hope and wonder, they stay up as late as they can before drifting into another muddled dream.  


“...Hey...It’s time to get up kiddo.” Sans shakes their shoulder gently, Flowey doesn’t look like he slept much, simply staring at Frisk in silence. He reaches up to the older skeleton as they begin to stir.  


“Take care of them.”the flower says firmly, he just nods. “I mean it you bag of bones!” he hisses, face shifting into something unsettling.  


“So do I, creep.” Sans growls, eye flashing dangerously before the flower shifts into its other body and hangs on his shoulders. He holds the goat kid up with one arm stiffly, not sure what to do.   


“You’re going to miss me too, arent’cha?” he says wavering.   


“Even if I say I won’t you wouldn't be-leaf me anyway.” Sans replies, finally returning the hug.  


“I’m going to miss beating you up…” the kid growls, squeezing his neck tight enough to pop his joints.    


Frisk’s farewell has no threats involved but is just as heartfelt. They know they’ll see each other soon but it’s not the same to wait a week than to wait a few months. Even Toriel seems sad to see them go, they try hard not to cry, but inevitably tear up when she wraps her arms around them and Flowey for the last time. It’s early noon by the time they get in the SUV since, as per Papyrus’ suggestion, they picked a particularly crowded time to depart. They did so hoping it will help them blend into the crowded airport, that is until they get in Papyrus’ and Mettaton’s private jet.   
Frisk is fascinated by the experience of going through the airport for the first time. They know they can’t pause to explore but they do their best to take everything in. By the time they’re in the jet they’re fidgeting like crazy, hands clattering on their lap.   


“You alright there?” Sans asks from across the aisle, still wary of being too close.  


“I’m fine, just nervous. I’ve never been on a plane before.” they turn to the window and watch the jet turn into the runway.   


Papyrus doesn’t share Sans’ wariness as he sits directly across from them and starts chattering. “Don’t worry, tiny skeleton! We are in safe hands! As soon as we are off the ground you can relax, perhaps watch a movie, since it’s going to be a long flight."  


"That sounds nice" they reply politely, still fidgeting.  


" Worry not tiny, skeleton, The Great Papyrus is always prepared! I always have some of the best Mettaton movies, readily at hand!”   


They agree shakily but when the plane speeds up they glance at the tall skeleton nervously, he switches seats and sits next to them, talking non-stop as they take off. They seem to appreciate the distraction and once they’ve reached a stable height he calls the assistant to bring them some lunch and put on a Mettaton movie.   


Everything seems to go smoothly from there on, they sit on the long couch and talk with his brother while the movie plays; Sans watches from a distance, mostly quiet. He observes their reserved gestures, the listless light in their eyes; they are unwell, but hanging on. Sans does not intervene, but keeps an eye on them, in case they need him to.   


They make it there in the late afternoon, their escort splitting traffic quickly. The identical vehicles take off in various directions after they leave the airport; yet another precaution by Papyrus, in case they are being followed. It’s already dark when they reach the estate, a flashy structure of metal, concrete and glass. The garden surrounding it is carefully crafted but has the odd Papyrus or Mettaton shaped bush here and there. Luckily for them it's as safe as it is flamboyant.  


Despite the appearance of the mansion, neither Sans nor Frisk expected the boisterous reception. Mettaton welcomes them at the door with confetti cannons and the staff lined up to greet them. They're instantly surprised by his  height, he’s taller than Papyrus even, with long stylized legs and a body so shiny it’s hard to look at directly. Maids and butlers take their belongings, Sans frowns but doesn’t seem to have the energy to argue much and Frisk just stares.   


“Welcome darlings, to my fabulous home! It’s a pleasure to meet you Frisk, I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you!” He shakes their hand and they simply nod at him, dazed. “I’ve personally made sure you’ll have everything you’ll need to enjoy your stay. Come along!”  


Mettaton pauses to give a loud peck to his husband’s mouth that leaves Papyrus kind of dazed, before continuing. He sure is dazzling, Frisk thinks, awed by their host, the decorations and the immensity of the place.   


“This is Jacques, he’s our head butler. Whatever you need, he can make it happen, so don’t hesitate to ask. Isn’t that right, Jacques?”  


“Certainly, sir. I am always at your service.” A poised monster with skin that looks like wood, bows first to Mettaton and then the guests in turn. Frisk just nods tiredly in response to everything. 

Papyrus excuses himself, sweeping Mettaton into his arms for a picture-perfect kiss, before leaving to check the security. As soon as he’s gone the robot drags them around the house, showing them rooms, galleries, libraries and a gym for some reason. Do robots need exercise? Frisk decides to leave that question for later. It’s while he’s laying dramatically on the dining table, monologuing about how he chose every element in the dining room personally that Sans finally cuts him off.  


“Hate to interrupt your, uh,...tour, but we’ve been flying for like six hours straight. We're both bone tired an hungry, so can ya take us to our rooms already?” he growls.  


“Hmm, your manners have improved. Now they’re only mediocre, progress. But I will admit that was a bit thoughtless of me. I’m just so excited to have visitors! I will have a freshly prepared meal waiting for you when you get to your new home. What would you like to eat, darling? If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would it be?” He gets up with the speed only a machine can generate, walking up to Frisk and putting a hand on their shoulder. Sans glares at him with distaste, everyone seems to be way too carelessly touchy with Frisk, but at least they’ll finally be able to rest.  


Papyrus was right when he referred to this as a house. Mettaton had re-arranged a whole section of the mansion for them; with a living room, kitchen, bedrooms, bathroom and  even an entertainment room. Best of all it was located at the center of the property, near the guards and the exits. It was a great spot for defending, in case it ever came to that.   

 

  
Once Mettaton leaves them be, settling in for dinner is a quiet and awkward affair. Looking around themselves they are made painfully aware of all the things the others have done to keep them safe. Frisk calls Flowey and Toriel before heading back to the dining room, since most of their things have already been put away by the staff. Meanwhile Sans calls his boss, to quit through e-mail after working over twenty years for this man was too lazy, even for him. He doesn’t give him a full explanation and the excuse he gives sounds lame, even by his own standards.   


“I’m really sorry to hear that, you’re a good man or skeleton, ya know what I mean.” the man replies sincerely after he’s done.  


“Thanks, boss. I really wish I could've stayed.” Sans admits.  


“Yeah, I hear ya, this town has gotten a lot shittier since you left...Tell ya what, we still need those manuals and someone to handle the website. If you still got yer handlink computer you can just work from home. It won’t pay as much, but I’d hate to lose yer imput.” his boss suggests.  


“...I- Are you serious?”  


“Dead serious man, whaddaya say?” 

  
“Yeah, I’d really like that, boss...Thanks a lot.” the relief is audible in his voice, he’d hate to think he’d lost this friend too.   


“I’ll send ya the specs, keep the newbies on track for me and I’ll even throw in a bonus...and Sans?”  


“Yeah, boss?”  


“Next time some shit goes down...just tell me, I’ll understand.”  


Sans finishes the conversation, returning to the living room feeling lighter, emotionally at least. Physically though, his magic is flickering everywhere and his bones ache; that damn plane and all the walking around with Mettaton had taken a toll. He can't see Frisk anywhere and uses his eye to find them in their room. He walks up to the spiral stairs that lead to their bedrooms, cursing at how even the stairs have to be some sort of convoluted affair here. As tired as he is he doesn’t notice Frisk has left their room until he bumps into them.  


“Oh, hi Sans.” they say simply.  


“Hi.” he replies stupidly, following it with an awkward silence.

  
“Are you going to take a shower too?”     


“Uh, probably not.” he says, eyeing the toiletries they already have in their hands.  


“Ok, then I’ll see you tomorrow then, goodnight.”   


“Kay, g’night.” he mumbles, staring at the bathroom door long after they’ve closed it.   


The way they talk to him now, so simply, so blandly; upsets him and he’s not sure why. He stays up most of the night, staring at their soul flicker through the walls and feeling like a creep for doing so. Eventually they fall asleep and despite his own exhaustion he sits on his bed and checks on them every few minutes until sleep hits him like a ton of bricks and he falls into an uneasy slumber.

  
The sound of their voice startles him awake, his eye aflame, he sees their soul flashing sporadically in fear. He sees them stand, move to the door and rushes up to meet them; but then they stop, and so does he. Sans sits there waiting for them to call him, to leave their room at least, but they return to their bed and go back to sleep, leaving him wishing he could do the same.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from an unplanned hiatus, finally got a steady job, now I gotta figure out how I'm going to make time to make artwork. But worry not I have downloaded a phone app to proofread the chaps and should be back to regular updates. As for artwork I'm going to start uploading them to a tumblr and I will link it here when its done. 
> 
> Enough news, thank you so much for reading and I hope to see ya on the next one, things will get better from here...maybe not for the characters as much as for the readers.


	27. Bent out of shape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is starting to realize things might never be the same with Frisk

__

“Good morning beauties!...and not so beauties. Sans, why didn’t you sleep last night?”

 

“I slept.” he says, bringing the butter to his hand with magic. As it floats past him, Mettaton grabs it and passes it, pursing his lips with disapproval. .

 

“Those bags under your eyes are saying the contrary, but whatever. How about you, Frisk? Did you sleep alright darling?” his voice turns genuinely sweet now that he’s addressing a possible new fan.

 

“I slept like I usually do, thank you for asking a-and everything else Mr.Metatton.” they say shyly.

 

“Oh goodness me, you’re so  _ polite _ !” he glares at Sans pointedly. “You’re most welcome, sweetie. Anything you want: movies, games, food, music just say the word! We really want you to feel at home here, so let us know!” he puts his hands in Papyrus’, the husbands smile at each other and then at Frisk. 

 

“That’s right, tiny skeleton! We want to help keep you safe and happy here with us! Speaking of, I’d like you to meet someone. SCYTHES!” the tall skeleton calls over his shoulder.

 

With a scuttling noise a monster walks up to the table behind Frisk.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

Sans stares at them, with a frown which the guard ignores. Frisk glances at them out of the corner of their eye, taking in their pointed feet and a shiny carapace of a body. They look up to a smooth face with multiple shining eyes, some of which either wink or blink at them making them smile nervously.  

 

“This is my head of security, Mx. Antoine Scythes. They will commandeer the guards while I am at work and will also be your bodyguard, Frisk.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mx. Skeletal, you can call me Antoine if you like.” they extend a three clawed hand and as they shake it, Frisk can’t help but notice the threatening looking spikes that protrude from this monster’s arms.

 

Once the introductions are out of the way, the Antoine retires and Mettaton and Papyrus begin to discuss their plans. They decided to take turns being in the house, since they both work almost everyday and travel often. Mettaton has re-arranged his schedule to accommodate most of his recordings to his private studio and a nearby TV station, while Papyrus’ been assigned to remain in NY by Asgore. The older skeleton leaves for work after the explanations are out of the way and Mettaton heads into his studio, inviting Frisk to come along when they finish eating.

 

“So, uh, anything you wanna do today?” Sans asks suddenly.

 

“Kind of. I need to make some calls and get my things organized. I was going to ask Mettaton if I could get a table for my room, but I didn’t know how...he’s kind of intense.”

 

“Heh, how many tents?” he says, trying to keep the conversation going.

 

“Oh, a lot of them I guess.” 

 

He appreciates the fact that they don’t force out a pity laugh, but before the awkwardness can become too painful the insectoid monster walks back in. 

 

“Sorry to interrupt but Papyrus instructed me to give you a briefing about our security measures if you’d like to have it now?” they ask the pair of skeletons.

 

“Sure, let me get these out of the way.” Frisk goes to pick up the dishes.

 

“It’s ok Mx. the maids will take care of that. Mr. Metatton was very clear that you were not to clean or pick up after yourself while you are here.” they smile, revealing two pincers in the corners of their mouth. Frisk smiles back and tries not to stare curiously.

 

“Really? Finally, something we can agree on.” Sans mutters, leaning back into his chair.

 

“Sorry Mr. Skeleton but the boss was also very clear that no one is to pick up after  _ you _ .” the monster’s mouth quirks as if they’re repressing another smile.   
  


“Knew it, frigging tincan never gets off my case.” 

 

“...Actually it was Mr. Papyrus that gave that order, sorry.” this time they find it impossible not to smile, the look on Sans face is priceless.

 

Antoine uses their handlink to project on the wall diagrams of the exits, escape routes, pictures of all the guards and where they are posted. They warn their two guests about the automated security system which uses electromagnetic pulses to neutralize both humans and magic and how not to activate it by accident. After they’re done the guard takes them on a tour through the house, showing them all the escape routes.

 

“Well, that’s all there is to it for now. All of us have your handlink number so we will alert you immediately if anything is going on. We are going to review these at least once a week since the guards change posts and so you won’t forget the emergency procedures. Any questions?” Antoine finishes.

 

“Do we get to go outside?” Frisk asks, brow furrowed.

 

“Of course...so long as it's within the estate grounds. We’ll have to escort you though.” they say amicably.

 

“That’s alright, so long as I don’t have to stay indoors forever.” 

 

Sans glances at Frisk, they sound so relieved. Maybe he should have brought his telescope, probably Mettaton has one and just like they used to....no, that would just be awkward and stupid.

 

“Oh, one last thing. Papyrus insisted that you receive magic training from him personally. He said to be ready at four am from tomorrow on, so he can include you in his uh, pre-work routine. The boss also assigned me to cover for him when he’s not present.” they say in the same official way they say everything else.  

 

“Did you say four...in the morning?...Oh-Oh wow.” Frisk looks at Sans then back at Antoine who crosses their arms looking awkward.

 

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” they nod.  

 

“You could say no. He won’t take it weird, he’ll just change the time.” Sans puts in helpfully. 

 

“You think?...No, then he’ll make me do it at night or something and it will be worse. I’ll be there. Guess I have to go to bed early.” Frisk says with a weak laugh.    
  


Antoine finishes his explanations with some polite small talk then excuses themselves. True to their word, the next day Sans can see Frisk from his window, while it's still dark, training in the yard. Papyrus is relentless but so is Frisk, and though it's obvious his brother is holding back, he’s proud of how well they’re holding up. They seem dazed for the rest of the day but as the week wears on they become more energetic instead, maybe Papyrus’ enthusiasm really is contagious.  His brother makes Frisk spar Antoine and he can finally see why this monster was chosen to be head of security. 

 

They are formidable; combining physical and magical attacks easily, just like Papyrus, he guesses it must be part of the Royal Guard training. The insect monster is restrained, strategic and calculating; soon they have Frisk on the floor, their stinger pointed at the skeleton’s face. He shortcuts outside and though he doesn’t interfere, as he can feel Papyrus watching, he keeps scowling all the same.

 

“Sans! I see you finally decided to join us! You think you can show us some of your cool moves, brother?” Papyrus greets him, he shrugs, still glaring at Antoine. Frisk takes the pause to get up and brush their clothes off, waving at him. 

 

“Nah, I’m just stretching before I go back to bed, dunno how you can be up at this hour, bro.” he says as he walks closer, placing himself between the insectoid and Frisk.

 

“Come on, I’m sure we could all use some practice! Would you like to show Frisk how you use your magic? They need to get used to fighting like a true skeleton, so give them a good show!” his brother seems to be getting more and more excited by the idea, and a reckless part of him wants to comply. If they’re going to be scared of him, why not give them a reason to be? No, that’s just the insomnia talking. He wants them to see he can protect them, that he won’t let anything harm them; at least that’s what he tells himself as he nods and his eye ignites with fire.

 

Sans launches a few attacks at them, which they dodge easily but Papyrus berates him on holding back and steps in. Sans exchanges blows with his brother, bone attacks shattering as they block each other’s advance. Papyrus has a very defined style and much more self-control, but he has more raw power. He doesn’t try to push back, only keeps it going long enough for his brother to get bored and call him lazy. He then orders Antoine to attack Sans, the monster looks hesitant before Papyrus gives them ‘the look’ and they begin.

 

It’s definitely not the same watching it as being in it, Sans thinks as he is forced within the first few minutes of the fight to start teleporting short distances to dodge. This fact doesn’t go unnoticed by the insect monster who literally has eyes on the back of their head. Their attacks are insanely difficult to predict as they keep coming at him at an angle, behaving like a boomerang or some other flying object that refuses to obey the regular laws of physics. 

 

Sans may not pressed to use his blasters, but at some point he does try to grasp Antoine’s soul to turn it blue. Suffice it to say they move fast enough to make it nearly impossible and by the time he does manage it he’s so tired he can’t even force them onto the floor; so he just holds them there surrounding them with bone shards. It’s not over till it's over because even then, the bastard manages to flick their tail and send a stream of magic aimed at his soul. He teleports away, but releases them in doing so and it's back to square one. 

 

It pisses him off that the damn bug is only a little out of breath while he’s sweating bullets. He won’t readily admit it to him, but Papyrus is right, he’s out of shape shape. Sadly, it’s not always he’ll get to gaster blast his problems away. 

 

“Alright, that’s enough! Great work brother and Antoine! I hope you took notes Frisk, because you’re going to be training with Antoine from now on!” Papyrus claps Frisk on the back so hard they almost dive headfirst into a bush.

 

“I thought I was going to train with both of you?” they ask.

 

“Well yes, but it has recently come to my attention that four in the morning is too early for some monsters! Getting a good night’s sleep is part of a healthy lifestyle and I want you to work on that from now on. Perhaps my brother could help you with that!” Sans scowls at this. “Antoine will be training you at seven am from now on. I will be training with you on the weekends after breakfast, how does that sound?”

 

Papyrus rambles on excitedly, only stopping when he has to head out for work. Frisk goes back to the house, with Antoine right behind them until they split up at the lobby. That’s enough for Sans, who watches Frisk go back to their room and then gets back in his own bed, exhausted and making a mental note never to interrupt those training sessions again.    

 

 

In their own room Frisk paces back and forth, handlink in hand. It’s time to make those calls. They call their boss first because it seems like it would be easier. She’s crying. The skeptical old woman who’d seen it all and was immune to everything, was crying. They listen to her, as she questions it again and again, trying not to cry too much themselves. When tell her they have to quit because they were forced to move out of town, she accepts it easily. She says she understands, that she’s lost her share of friends this way, they feel guilty. They know they can’t tell her the truth, but omitting it still makes them feel like a liar. 

 

None of that made calling Mrs. Dedino any easier. For some reason the fact his mother is so calm makes them even more upset. Though they called to offer their condolences, apologize for not being at the Farewell and explain that they moved out, they end up being consoled instead. They tell her all the things they and Bliz did together at the store, all the times he helped them. Mrs. Dedino sounds sad but they can also hear her smiling, as she shares her own set of stories with them. They say sorry over and over, she just thanks them for having been one of his few good friends. Their soul feels leaden with lies.

 

They don’t leave their room until evening and return to it immediately after dinner. 

 

 

The next time he sees them Sans tries to start a conversation, gently this time. He can see the darkness under their eye sockets and how faded the light in them has become. He can also see the sadness on their soul easily but can’t even begin to address it. Frisk responds politely, amicably even, but leave his side the first chance they get. The next day they are at it again, training with Antoine and exerting themselves. The guard makes them take a break and helps them reassess how they use their magic. They try different types of attacks and find something they are comfortable with. Taking note of their mood Antoine allows them to utterly destroy their practice targets and vent their frustration. 

 

The fact it's making them better irks him, he’d rather not see Frisk fight, even if it’s against inanimate objects. They shouldn’t ever have to fight, it’s not in their nature to. He feels stupid to be bothered by it, but with every day that passes the irritation grows. For every night they have a nightmare and don’t tell him about it; for every time they discover something new about their magic without him, for every time they smile at something they’re not sharing together. 

 

Frisk still says good morning and good night, even laughs at his jokes sometimes. But they don’t approach him like they used to, they don’t really bicker or play cards with him. They don’t sit close to him on the couch anymore. When they wake up from a nightmare, they just sit on the bed or write or pace their room before going back to sleep. All the conversations they have are superficial and it makes him anxious, but he doesn’t know what else to say; so when he’s not with them or doing rounds with the guards, he’s shadowing them.

 

He watches them as Mettaton drags them into the studio to help him record his show, how earnestly they work. He watches them write until their journal is filled and Mettaton gets them another. He watches a movie with them from the other end of the couch again; this time because they’re sitting between his brother and his husband. At this point the husbands will do just about anything to keep Frisk busy. Most of their time outside is spent with that bug in a uniform, Antoine. They train together when Papyrus is away and even play cards when the guard’s on break. He watches them feeling bitter he doesn’t get to do the same, his annoyance increasing as he takes in how pathetic he’s become in such a short amount of time.

 

“He’s still there, isn’t he?” they ask.

 

“That he is.” Antoine replies, glancing at him with one of their eyes. “Does he know why you’re upset or are you doing that thing where ‘he already knows what he did’ and you’re waiting for him to guess?” they focus most of their eyes back on the cards, knowing there’s no point in losing any more snacks to this card demon.

 

“No, I’m not waiting for him to guess, we already talked about it. It’s going to take time to trust him again. He...was hiding things from me for a while and to be honest I’m not sure if he would’ve told me if I hadn’t found out by myself.” Frisk admits.

 

“I know it’s no excuse, really but it’s normal for monsters to hide things they did back then. In the Old Underground everyone did awful things at one point or another.”

 

“Like what?” the skeleton says taking the guard’s briscas for their own. There go another five points. 

 

“Hmm, I was quite young when I was Underground; but I knew monsters my age who got into fights, or gangs, even killed other monsters. It was crowded down there and most of us were desperate. We did some rather...unpleasant things to get out; both to the humans that fell but to other monsters as well. They fought a lot. I had a big family so we would look out for each other, other monsters...they weren’t that lucky.”   

 

“I know. I saw some of it.” 

 

“Well, I guess you really are baby-faced. You don’t look a month over twenty!” the guard plays his last hand, it’s now or never to go all out.

 

“Thank you for the compliment...and for the candy too.” Frisk smiles mischievously taking the last of their points and their snacks in one fell swoop. They don’t correct them on their age, trusting others with their secrets won’t exactly come so easily anymore. 

 

“...I’m going to run out of food, aren’t I?” Antoine asks, handing over their stash.

 

“You bet.” they winked cheekily. 

 

Antoine shakes their head and determines to beat them, just to not hear those anymore; one punning skeleton was enough to deal with.

 

Sans shortcuts back into the roof, nearly getting shot by a startled guard posted there and goes off to do his own rounds. Keeping them safe is more important than being bothered he doesn’t have their complete trust. Yet the frustration lingers. Isn’t it almost cruel that they treat him just like anyone else? As if he were like any other acquaintance or friend? How can Frisk put aside all the things they went through together? The fact they faced death by his side so many times?

...Then again, is it so hard to believe that they’d want to forget about all that? 

 

After all, how can you fully trust someone who’s killed you before?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading again and for being patient with me. Hope you liked this one, and yes the OC's will keep coming. Antoine is one of my faves even if they're not in the story much, they're simple but likable and look totally badass. I imagine they speak with a british lilt, they're the comedy straightman. 
> 
> Anyway its in these chapters I started getting very comfortable writing the characters and I'm glad writing was becoming easier here, I think it makes for more interesting reads when I'm focused on what i'm trying to say and not in shaping the characters at every other second. Reminder if ya feel lost, the characters start as regular Undertale but become the Underfell versions due to the situation in the Underground becoming more dire. They had more humans fall into Mt.Ebbot but very few of their souls could be used for the barrier and not all of them died, hence the monsters grew more desperate. For the reveals of how each monster became 'Underfell' and how they got back out of it into what they are now, just keep reading and you'll get to see them.
> 
> Until the next one!
> 
> ٩(◦`꒳´◦)۶


	28. Lifestyles of the rich and famous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks pass as Frisk and Sans get used to living in the mansion, Alphys visits to check up on Frisk finding some interesting things about their soul and their new body...

“Guess what, darlings?” Mettaton is suddenly sitting on the table extending his legs in a pose. They can’t help but to turn to look at him, he’s fabulous even in his pajamas.

 

“What happened, Mr. Mettaton?” Frisk plays along.

 

The robot turns to them, basking in their seemingly never ending interest. “I have a surprise for you. I noticed you are running short in clothing and as a fashion ambassador I cannot let any of my friends suffer from lack of appropriate attire. SO…You and I are going SHOPPING!” A pre-recorded cheer bursts from the speakers in his chest.

 

Papyrus places a hand on his leg, gently coaxing him back into a normal sitting position.

 

“My love, we already talked about this. They can’t go to the town, it’s not safe for them right now.” the older skeleton says calmly, his husband just pouts.

 

“Still haven’t caught her?” Sans asks too casually. Papyrus sighs, almost as dramatically as Mettaton.

“No…Because she’s worked as a tracker she knows the methods we use to track criminals and she’s being quite discreet. Monsters are not being much help, since a lot of them think treating human and monster criminals equally means we’re taking the humans’ side. They probably think it’s another one of those ‘discrimination against monsters’ cases and I have to admit we do get plenty of those. Plus humans have a hard time identifying monsters, so asking them if they have seen her is pretty much useless if she’s wearing a disguise.” his brother explains with slight irritation, it’s obvious the situation is causing him a lot of stress as well. Before anyone can ask more, a plaintive whine interrupts them.

 

“But Papy, dear, they NEED new clothes!” Mettaton’s pout intensifies.

 

“What about the tailor?” he suggests, eating calmly. “Brilliant! I’ll call them immediately. Get ready darling, I’m going to give you a FABULOUS MAKEOVER!” the robot announces with a wink before digging into his food daintily. Frisk doesn’t even flinch at his volume, already used to the excessive amount of exclaiming that takes place in this house.

 

They thank Mettaton for the offer, but send Sans a questioning look over the table. He shrugs, it’s hard to tell sometimes how serious the robot is being. Sans follows them out, watching as the robot takes them upstairs and starts projecting different clothing designs into the walls of a room apparently designed for personal fashion shows, with a catwalk and full view mirror booths. Sans wanders over to a photography set, they use holograms for the props and background. He eyes the devices curiously, ignoring his brother-in-law as he interrogates Frisk with the same amount of flair as if they’d unwittingly signed up for a trivia gameshow.

 

When the tailor arrives, Mettaton pulls him over for a ‘second opinion’, he suppresses a shudder. There’s something unsettling to Sans about the way he smiles as he drags him to a bench in front of the changing partitions. The tailor brings in samples of clothes, already having received Frisk’s measurements from Mettaton, who apparently has nothing better to do with the cameras in his eyes. In an odd show of humility the robot sits with Sans, waiting for the younger skeleton to change into some of the outfits, instead of trying some on himself.

 

“Now you listen here.” The robot grabs Sans by the arm and whispers urgently. “You’re going to tell them honestly how they look. If they look attractive: flatter them, don’t just say they ‘look good’; and if they don’t look so good, blame it on the clothes! They need positive reinforcement, you hear me?!”

 

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, jeez.” he mutters.

 

“That’s the problem! You don’t say anything and it makes it look like you don’t care! Do you want to make up with them or not?!” the robot’s eyes glow dangerously but Frisk is stepping out and he turns to them smiling before the skeleton can reply. 

 

Sans mutters to himself angrily, earning a hard jab to the ribs, the metallic elbow clangs against his side.  Frisk walks out wearing a jacket with brooches over a graphic t-shirt, some very tight, ripped jeans, a pair of patterned boots and a knit beanie for some reason. They walk over shyly and glance at their faces, behind them the tailor is shaking her head no.

 

“Hmm, what do you think Sans?” Mettaton says, as if by script.

 

“Uh…” he glances at Frisk and Mettaton, sweating nervously. “Those pants look tight…like uncomfortably tight not like-dammit…” He turns to his brother-in law frowning. “I don’t like those clothes, just let them pick something out by themselves, they got better taste than you anyways.”

 

“Tactless, but I agree. Fashion is supposed to make you FEEL LIKE A STAR! We need to find something that not only looks best, but makes you feel your best too!” he herds them behind the partition.

 

“Hey, where do ya think yer goin’ ya pervert!? They can dress themselves without yer help!” Sans walks over, his hightops squeaking on the polished floor.

 

“I’m not peeking, you imbecile. I’m just going to give them some advice! If I really was bothering them, they could easily tell me themselves!” Mettaton says, peering over the partition easily.

 

“It’s fine, Sans, I don’t mind.” Frisk replies amusedly. Sans returns to the bench reluctantly.

 

“Now sweetie, talk to me. What kind of things do you like? Have you ever seen a movie and thought ‘I’d love to wear that in real life’? Because I can make that happen.” the robot says sweetly.

 

Mettaton sits on an ottoman, crossing his legs while he waits; looking gorgeous despite not wearing his pink chasis, and having his hair in a bun. The tailor steps out to give them some space and Frisk swallows their embarrassment to start by telling Mettaton they enjoy fantasy movies. He asks questions as if interviewing them, but remains polite and is as enthusiastic a listener as Papyrus. Soon they’re telling him about their favorite music, how they like to write and go out for walks, he compliments some of their tastes and sings back some of the melodies they both enjoy. Some of the excitement they felt initially curbs into comfort as the conversation becomes something more casual.

 

“Well then, how do you think you can express that with your looks?” he asks, leading them back to the subject at hand.

 

“I…I don’t know, really. So far I’ve just been wearing what Sans and Flowey gave me.” they reply.

 

“I’m sure they have, erm, good intentions but this is the time for you to think about yourself. What are the things you feel…more yourself in?” both of them pause hearing something that sounded like a snort or a snore from the other side of the partition. Mettaton glares venomously through it, as if Sans could see him.

 

“I like these boots. They look like something out of a book and they don’t fall off my legs…they’re also the first thing Sans bought for me, so yeah, they make me feel more myself.” they glance at them fondly.

 

“Hmm, those are good quality, but they’re a little worn out. I can get them refurbished for you. I know you prefer baggy clothes but let’s see what else we can get you. I’ve been living with a skeleton for quite some time now and I know you might be shy about showing off your figure, but trust me on this sweetie, with a few adjustments we can take you from pretty cute to DEVASTATINGLY GORGEOUS!”

 

They try on various sets of clothes, letting Mettaton change the accessories and combinations every now and then, it’s difficult not to get carried away with him, but the way he keeps asking for their opinion makes them feel at ease. The next time they come out they’re wearing something they put together themselves and get to wake up Sans to ask his opinion. This time his eyes just widen, going up and down their frame a few times before giving them a smile and a double thumbs up. Mettaton just glares daggers at him as they keep trying on more clothes. Even Sans ends up getting some new threads, though Mettaton doesn’t let him model them because he doesn’t take it ‘seriously’enough. A good part of the afternoon flies by like this until it’s time for dinner.

 

When Mettaton finds out Frisk hasn’t seen his wedding, which is also a movie, he makes the staff prepare a movie night for all of them. Unfortunately for Sans this initiates a Mettaton movie marathon that stretches well into the night. Fortunately Mettaton seems to be warming up to Frisk, as he readily agrees to watch some of the movies they like for a change; starting with a romantic comedy about a wedding singer and finishing off with a cinderella movie, starring the same actress. Both husbands are charmed by the movies and decide to make a habit of having movie nights with Frisk and Sans on their free time.

 

The next week Mettaton insists they get a spa-day together. It’s one of those days when Papyrus is also at home and they set up a station for each of them at the inner garden of the mansion. They sit on these impossibly comfortable leather chairs and have their feet and hands massaged, cleaned and in some cases buffed. Soothing music plays and Mettaton talks idly to Frisk and Papyrus. Frisk takes a cucumber slice from their socket and sits up to look at Sans, just standing there fidgeting.

 

“Aren’t you going to…?” they gesture the empty chair next to theirs awkwardly.

 

“I dunno if I wanna let them get me all prettied up, kinda de-feets the purpose don’t you think?” he wiggles his sharp toes out of his slippers to drive the point home. They smile slightly and shake their head.

 

“Oh, ok then.” they don’t insist he joins them and he feels like an idiot for expecting anything else. He takes his slippers off and sits next to them anyway.

 

He’s tense and tries to bend his toes out of sight, but the woman doesn’t seem startled by the sharp bones, patiently coaxing him to relax. They’ve probably seen Papyrus’ less sharp but just as skeletal toes a hundred times before and starts to unwind as they polish his skull and claws. It doesn’t even take five minutes for him to fall asleep with his mouth hanging open slightly.

 

It takes only fifteen before the other three start taking pictures with his limp body and try see how many random objects they can stack on his head before he wakes up. Regardless of the peculiar things they do Papyrus and Mettaton always invite Frisk along, which they certainly appreciate. Starting to become something like friends with them can’t change what happened to Bliz, but it’s still comforting to know they are not alone.

 

On the other side of the globe, near the coasts of the Ibaraki Prefecture, the ex-Royal Scientist reports her findings to the previous queen. Though not literally standing before her, as they are using a hologram, Toriel’s imposing figure still makes her nervous. She is grateful Toriel has chosen to sit for this meeting.

 

“So what you are saying is that there is a possibility these are the same souls that broke the barrier?” the queen asks after she summarizes her discoveries.

 

“Well it’s a very slim chance. With an estimated population of around one million monsters that could’ve been under Mt. Ebbot at the time, taking into account that the souls were used to unlock the barrier and spread from the main point of connection outwards as it unlocked–” she goes off, wringing her hands.

 

“Sorry to interrupt but please, try to be concise, Alphys. Also, I don’t quite understand how the barrier was, ‘unlocked’ as you say. I was under the impression that the souls’ energy was needed to undo the spell, because similar souls were used to cast it.”

 

“Y-yes your majesty, I mean, Mrs. Toriel. From what I gathered I found that the spell worked more like a lock…Uh, imagine the barrier was a box, with a very specific lock. But because it doesn’t have a literal key it was made to unlock with any pieces that fit it’s mechanism. In this case those pieces are t-the seven human souls.”

 

“I can understand that, but then what would make the souls linger after they’ve unlocked it? Wouldn’t they be spent when the barrier dissipated?” she inquired.

 

“Well the barrier was created in such a way that monsters could not get past it, but humans could go through. Like a permeable membrane, where some things can come in, but others can’t come out. To answer your question, what I found is that, though humans souls do linger after d-death, they couldn’t have lasted long enough to be used to break the barrier.” the scientist explains.

 

“Then how would it be possible for these specific souls to stay here for so long?”

 

“We need to confirm this with actual mages, but, from the few references we could find w-we can assume that the barrier…altered the souls in some way. I speculate that part of the barrier’s magic must have stuck to them, like a covering t-to force it to stay together long after the body was dead. In all the years we…um, r-researched humans Underground their souls would always linger, but here on the surface that’s never been the case. So I think that whatever the barrier did to make sure the souls stay, also affected them and how they reacted to magic which might explain the, uh, unusual side-effects.”

 

“I see, like the vigilante’s speed or Frisk’s supposed ability to turn back time. But even so, it’s been over fifty years…Even if they were altered, without a body, a soul cannot exist, they should’ve shattered.”

 

“Exactly. Which lead us to believe the only way for these souls to still be around is, if they were being absorbed…by monsters.”

 

“Goodness….that would mean there could be at least five others like this?” the queen grips her chair hard enough to crack the wood under her claws, Alphys averts her eyes to let the queen collects herself.

 

“T-that is a possibility, yes. The other is that nobody found them in time and they faded…we’re not sure how long they last before shattering so it’s all just speculations for now. I asked Papyrus for help, trying to find any odd crimes o-or events, like the vigilante in the last fifty years. We have an idea of some possible locations and suspects. We might have to track them down just to confirm. Papyrus has been helping as much as he can…but they have a lot going on right now.”

 

“That they do…thank you so much for all your work Dr. Alphys. I would appreciate it if you made your visit a quick one, I will make sure Asgore is informed so we can assess our options. The sooner we can isolate these incidents the better. I can’t bear to think what would happen if the humans found out about this…”

 

“I-I understand your ma-Mrs.Toriel!…I will let you know when I’m back home.” the doctor stammers, relieved.

 

“I appreciate your efforts. My son and his escort will be waiting for you when you return. Please, doctor…take care of him.”

 

“I will call the guard to help keep us safe…I-I promise to do my best your majesty!”

 

With a brief farewell they end the conversation and after a few deep breaths Alphys calls Mettaton to organize a visit. Suffice to say he is thrilled at the prospect, insisting on arranging a sleepover to celebrate her arrival. She explains she is only visiting to give Frisk a secondary examination but he either pretends not to hear her, or actually doesn’t as he goes on to plan what he promises will be a fantastic girls’ night. She doesn’t argue the obvious fact he’s not a girl and simply gets busy packing.

 

They receive Alphys with the same pomp and noise as Frisk themself was welcomed into the house. She doesn’t seem surprised so much at the welcome, but at the fact Frisk is there, firing the confetti cannons with Papyrus. It seems like in the last weeks some of the husbands’ exuberance had rubbed off on the usually shy skeleton. After a japanese dinner Mettaton insisted on, and cheering alongside Frisk as Sans shoveled sushi into his maw with magic, she heads to her room to unpack. She manages to convince Mettaton to postpone the sleepover as she’s too tired to even try to stay awake and he complies with the bare minimum of pouting.

 

The next day the doctor gets the spa treatment alongside Frisk and Mettaton and they spend the day catching up and setting up her equipment. Luckily the robot is more than capable of lifting and unpacking all of the heavy machinery and in a matter of hours she has her setup ready. She sits with Frisk and asks them all the necessary questions. Mettaton waits in the background, eyes distant, probably remembering the many interviews she had with him before his many procedures. Regardless, she doesn’t avoid thinking about it, after all it’s one of the few stories she’s been in to have a happy ending.

 

Making his body was one of the first big projects Alphys had to handle alone. It took many years of hard work and even now she kept looking for ways to improve it. More than just making a weapon for the king in order to find and collect the human souls, at some point this was also meant to be his true body. Back then she was always torn between duty and her goals. For many years duty had won; she tries not to remember the awful experiments she conducted in that lab and instead focuses on Frisk.

 

Their eye sockets have dents under them and their voice is raspy, surely a sign of mourning and of having experienced extreme pain. Hearing Sans talk about them and seeing them face to face were two different things; Frisk seemed haunted by what had happened but at the same time much more awake. The dazed innocent look they had when she first met them was fading, she could only pray that their hope would not fade along with it.

 

“I’m sorry if this question is t-too forward, but you said you experienced a similar sensation when you encountered Dahlia; something you’d felt with your friend Bliz. Can you explain w-what you meant?” she asks tensely.

 

“I can try…it-it was something like ‘I know this person’, like I was supposed to remember them. I thought it was because of my memory, but I asked Sans and he told me I’d never met her, and Bliz…he was born after I, you know, died I guess, so that wasn’t it…When I bumped into her I felt it, and I thought she was Bliz, because I only felt that when I was close to him. But the way she made it feel…It was frightening.” they say in a low voice.

 

“I see…a-and how was it different with, um, your friend?” she asks, taking notes all the while.

 

They wince a little but can’t help but smile at the memory. “He felt familiar, not just like ‘I know you’ but a good familiar, like he was my friend before I even knew him…if that makes sense. I felt it when we first met, he grabbed my hand and I felt like a…I dunno, like a jolt? It wasn’t like using magic exactly it felt bigger but less…electricky? I don’t know how to put it, sorry.”

 

“That was excellent, don’t worry. Did you only feel this when you touched them?”

 

“The first time, yeah. I got used to being around Bliz and after a while I could kinda feel it from far away too. With that…monster girl it just happened when I bumped into her, nothing else.” they say, still refusing to use her name. Alphys doesn’t blame them, she too had her fair share of bitter memories she’d rather not name.

 

“Would you say the sensation was in your spine? Or in your hands only?” she adjusts her glasses to look at their expression closely.

 

“It was here.” They gesture over their chest.

 

When she’s done taking notes they move on to the physical examination, though not much seems to have changed. The flowers don’t really seem to be affecting their health and oddly enough manifest in their magic. Pellets are common for all monsters to make, but these pellets can turn into flowers and it’s not common for skeletons to produce anything but bones. Finally she takes them to the scanning table, laying them down and using the portable drones combined with Mettaton’s scanners to see the magic flowing through their body.

 

She notices something she hadn’t in previous scans; the previous scan had overlooked some parts, since there wasn’t much point in accounting for thin layers of tissue when your patient is made entirely of bone. With this detailed scan she can see the rest of the flower in their eye socket, how it’s thin roots spread out tendrils through the inside of their skull, looking very much like a human nervous system, an artificial brain.

 

Mettaton looks at her with wide eyes but she shushes him, excited about looking into it later. She concludes the examination by checking their magic wavelength. With Mettaton’s help they are able to isolate the three distinct frequencies that laced together to form their wavelength. One was vibrant red, razor thin but intense. The other was also red but wider and muted, it made up most of the wavelength. The last one, a yellow and green one, was just as wide as the second but so blurry it seemed faded. It, despite being a little offbeat, matched the other two almost perfectly and was externally the most visible, an outer layer perhaps. These colors were like a blueprint of all the pieces that composed them. 

 

She explained it to them simply, how each represented some of the key components of their soul and it seemed to put them at ease somehow. As they finished the examination Frisk shared with both of them the story about their memories. They looked at the doctor expectantly when they finished; she assured them it made sense for their wavelength to be split if they shared memories with another soul. They still didn’t understand the workings or the strength of human magicians and right now it seemed like anything was possible. The one thing none of them could even begin to understand was the source or effect of the strange yellow wavelength.

 

“Well I can tell you it wasn’t Sans, that’s for sure! He’s saltier than a sailor.” Mettaton interjected with an almost evil laugh.

 

“M-Mettaton that’s in-appropriate!” she scolded.

 

“Really? Hah! I bet you’d ship them too if you lived with them long enough.” he said matter-of-factly.

 

“Am I missing something? Wait, are you shipping me with Sans? You need a new hobby Mettaton.” they say amused.

 

“Oh, what happened to those days when you used to call me Mr.Mettaton?” he said, putting his hand on his forehead daintily.

 

“That was last week and you told me to stop calling you Mr. because you’re not that old.” they reply.

 

“What he meant is that there’s one of two options. Either: one, it’s part of your own wavelength that is going to either grow or fade away as you mature. Or t-two…” she starts.

 

“Or…?” they try to prompt her but she blushes and mumbles something too low for them to hear.

 

“Or you were doing something naughty when we weren’t watching!” says Mettaton with a saucy wink.

 

“Like what?” Frisk is quickly losing track of the conversation, particularly with the robot practicing poses so close by.

 

“Oh my little cinnabunny! You’re so sweet!” Mettaton gets up and suddenly hugs their face to his chest. Luckily they don’t really need to breathe, it’s the little blessings. “We’re going to have to give them The Talk Alphys! Come on, I’ll put a presentation together. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you should count yourself lucky, sweetie!…Because today, yours truly will be your…Sex-ed teacher! OH YES!”

 

“Oh god no!” They look at Alphys helplessly, she shrugs.

 

“Fine fine, I won’t do the whole: ‘when a monster and another monster love each other very much’ schtick. You’re an adult already, so dull it is.” He turns on the projector in his palm, to show an educational video on the wall. A cartoon Mettaton and other characters explain the basics of monster intercourse. It is actually more cute than it is awkward.

 

After it ends he clears his throat and gives them an amused look.”Basically monsters share part of their magic when they have intercourse and it can leave a mark for some time after. Think of it as a soul hickey, if you will. But not many monsterfolk can see souls anyway, so I wouldn’t worry so much.” he explains.

 

“Um thanks but I-I already knew how monsters make babies, Alphys already gave me ‘The talk’. But I haven’t done that so where did that other color come from? And why does my soul look mostly yellow on the outside?” they ask, now seriously.

 

“Well, I have an idea…that maybe the humans who crossed the barrier had their souls changed by it so they could be used to u-unlock it. So that yellow you see must be that last layer, the red is underneath so you can’t see it as easily. Either way, so far it’s not having any negative effects on your health; so I will take these back home with me and I promise to look into it properly.” she says, taking their hand earnestly.

 

“Alright that’s enough seriousness, let’s have dinner quickly because after that its SLEEPOVER TIME!” he interjects amplifying his voice.

 

They follow his lead, putting aside their worries and it’s not long before they’re in his room, wearing fancy pajamas, strewn over a pile of cushions watching anime. They eat snacks and watch movie after movie, letting Alphys pick her favorites as the guest of honor; at least anything besides Mew Mew Kissey Cutie, which Mettaton ‘can’t find in his system’. The movie they choose deals with time travel, Alphys sees her mistake halfway into the film but Frisk is already too invested and it doesn’t really bother them. 

 

When they see the girl leap through time for the last time it was so heart wrenching they almost take it back; if it hadn’t been for the fact it was so beautiful. They found themselves teary quite a few times and though they were embarrassed at first they soon realized the other two couldn’t care less. In fact Mettaton seemed to genuinely enjoy the entire experience, using up an entire box of tissues dramatically wiping his glowing, pink tears.

 

After that he insisted on painting Alphy’s claws, and having nothing better to do, Frisk helped along. While her now colorful and decorated, claws dried Mettaton started a game of truth or dare. She wasn’t pleased.

 

“Dare.” she says scowling.

 

“Ohoho! Love that spark! I dare you to call Undyne…” she rolls her eyes and picks up her handlink. “and tell her your secret.” he says in an oddly gentle voice.

 

Frisk stares at the both of them awkwardly, clearly they’re missing something.

 

“Truth it is then.” She says, detachedly. Mettaton sighs but doesn’t insist or make any more upsetting dares or truths. Then it’s Frisk’s turn, Alphys is asking them and they feel relieved, they have n idea what they’re getting into.

 

“Dare.” they tell her, she smiles mischievously.

 

“I dare you…to kiss Sans!…o-on the cheek, I mean!”

 

“See, you could’ve left that last part up to interpretation. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Mettaton asks gleefully.

 

“Sorry Alphys, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. We’re…not on the best terms.” they confess.

 

The robot looks curious but doesn’t press the matter. Instead they make Frisk kiss Antoine, with Mettaton’s help they find the guard easily. Frisk makes an excuse about thanking them for a trick they showed them during their last training session but when the moment of truth comes, they can’t reach up to the guard’s cheek to kiss them. Antoine leans down and receives the kiss non-chalantly, even posing as Mettaton takes pictures of the whole embarrassing ordeal. Apparently everyone but Frisk was already more than used to Mettaton’s shenanigans, then again the robot did have a habit of greeting almost everyone with a kiss on each cheek. Why would anything like this be surprising? 

 

Once they all return to the bedroom, Frisk and Alphys let themselves fall on the cushions. Mettaton is laughing long and hard as he throws himself alongside them. The scientist giggles and covers her mouth while Frisk just runs their hands over their skull desperately, as if trying to rub away the embarrassment. Right when they are almost done with their jitters Mettaton makes them turn to the wall and he projects a video recording of the whole thing on the wall. They watch it through their fingers despite their mortification and even they have to admit it’s pretty funny. At least this would stay between them.

 

After that the dares get more and more silly. Alphys prank calls Papyrus, making a pun so awful they’re sure he’ll be buying a new handlink soon. Mettaton goes to the lawn in a swan dress to sing ‘I’m a little teapot’ in opera. Frisk even manages to eat an unholy mix of watermelon, cheese and crackers, though the fact they don’t need to chew probably counts as cheating. Eventually their interaction devolves from the game into regular, if not sleepy conversation. The robot settles in his sleeping bag and plugs himself in to recharge, but Frisk falls asleep on the cushions before they even make it to their own sleeping bag. So now, Alphys lays next to him and they talk quietly; the conversation inevitably drawn to the same thing Mettaton seems to address every time she visits.

 

“I know you’re just trying to help but I don’t really have to tell her anything, Mett…we barely even talk to each other anymore, let alone spend time together.” she says resigned.

 

“So, just because you’re not dating anymore, you think she doesn’t need to know? How selfish of you.” he observes shrewdly.

 

“That’s not what I meant but, I mean, if we were ‘dating’ as you say, I would kind of be my responsibility to tell her because we are in a relationship, it isn’t the same when you’re not-I mean w-when you-”

 

“Even if you were back together, I don’t really think you’d tell her…” he said, still humming to himself while he’s rubbing alcohol over the glass of his eyes in a compact mirror.

 

“W-what? No…I would’ve…I would tell her if I knew I could trust her…”

 

“What else did she need to do to earn your trust, honey? She would’ve literally lassoed the moon for you if you asked! You really think you would have told her anything? After all the years you spent together and all you went through you never mentioned a word about that place. If I hadn’t found out by myself you probably wouldn’t have told me either!” He threw her a knowing look from over his shoulder before he set aside his cleaning tools with a sigh and sits up to face her.

 

She sits up as well but doesn’t look him in the eye. Without a word he goes to his cabinet and pulls out a bottle of what she recognizes as chrysanthemum sake, her favorite kind. He sure was observant when he wanted to be. He pours them both a drink and they take sips in silence.

 

“Then it really wasn’t meant to be…A relationship could never flourish under such conditions. The reason Papy and I are still together is because we tell eachother everything, and before you ask, yes I do mean eeeverything.” He says pointedly with an eyebrow wag.

 

She splutters her sake and hurries to mop up her pajamas with a tissue while he laughs a quieter version of his stage laugh. Mettaton helps her quietly then takes her hands in his.

 

“I didn’t trust him right away, you know?…We met in not-so-favorable circumstances and even when I grew to like him I knew that trusting him completely would be like handing over my blue prints. But more than that; trust would mean I was giving myself permission to be…vulnerable. It’s not about how much power over me I’d be giving him, but about how much freedom I’d be giving myself to, well, be loved…I put everything aside in order to impress him once upon a time…”

 

She looked away, ashamed and remembering how she went along with changing his body into a weapon for the sake of both their misguided feelings.

 

“To impress all of you, really…still, in the end it didn’t make me happy to do what everyone needed. I’m the brightest when I do what makes me happy and guess what, honey? That’s when my fans love me the most too.” He winked conspiratorially, as if sharing a big trade secret; his gestures gentle and quiet as he pulled her into a hug, arms extending to wind snugly around her. Somehow that gesture hit her soul where the words hadn’t, she sniffled softly into his shoulder and he patted her back until she could talk again.

 

“How am I even going to t-tell her?” she asks, as if only just realizing how heavy keeping this secret had become.

 

“Hmm, have you told anyone else?”

 

“Uh…I haven’t even told you a-all of it…” she admits.

 

He looked offended, scandalized even, his hand poised over his mouth before he laughed again, airily. “Oh Alphys! I already knew that, of course! You’re not as good as you think you are at keeping secrets.”

 

“B-but I…I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s not important! It’s all forgiven.” he waved his hand dismissively. “Now, does anyone else know anything about this? The king certainly knows something, but anyone else?”

 

“U-um yes, King Asgore funded some of the research even if he doesn’t know everything it…involved, he knew I was researching different ways we could unlock the barrier.” he waves again, prompting her to continue. She takes a deep breath. “And Sans knows pretty much everything since he used to work in the lab too…”

 

“I knew it! That sneaky little bastard!” he slaps his thigh for emphasis, she just shakes her head and lets him wind out, once he finishes his rant about Sans’ secret hoarding and his interference in the first years of dating Papyrus, he returns his hands to his lap and resumes in a calmer tone.

 

“Excuse me, back on subject; I suggest that if you don’t think you can do this by yourself, you tell Sans to be there when you talk to her. As much as it pains me to admit it, he is …very protective of those he cares about and for someone without a nose he can be awfully nosy. So, I’m sure he would love to be there to support you.”

 

“I think so too…but I don’t know if I should, um, tell her yet?” she retracts.

 

He shakes his head, holding her gaze coldly. “That’s enough playing around, Alphys. You either tell her the truth or get ready to lose your love forever. She can’t love all of you if you keep hiding and  neither can you love her in peace carrying these things in your hearr! Not just her, but with anyone you choose to be in a relationship with. If you want to love and be loved completely you have to put everything out there! Only then can you actually love someone and give them the chance to love all of you back…”

 

His hand goes to his stomach subconsciously, a shard of orange glowing intensely inside his pink soul as if to underline his words. A piece of Papyrus’ soul, a constant reminder of the love they have for one another. Alphys stares at it longingly, sobering with the awareness that she’s been operating on the assumption that she will never be loved that way. It never occurred to her that it was that thought that kept her isolated and therefore feeling lonely all of this time. She cries a little again but this time she feels relief, accepting that she already knows what the right thing to do is…

 

Now all she has left is to do it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I was thinking of changing the summary and making it an introductory text as it doesn't say much about what the story is about, more what Frisk and Sans are going through. Anyway if you see the changed summary, you know what happened. These chaps will have plenty of comedy and fluff but don't worry, I'm not slacking on the action scenes. Hope to see ya on the next one!
> 
> !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑


	29. Coping Mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Sans and Mettaton deal with the things they've kept from Frisk, though how they choose to go about it is very different, to say the least...

 

 

That afternoon they share an extravagant dinner to send Alphys off, they dress nicely and chat over the sumptuous meal. Despite their differences, Sans too had gotten new clothes from Mettaton and begrudgingly wore them for the occasion. Afterwards Mettaton performs a few songs on the collapsible stage he has in the living room, when he’s done he steps off to the others use the karaoke. When the time comes they wave goodbye at Alphys as the escort drives out of the estate and head back inside. Frisk takes a bath and heads off to bed early, too tired to do anything else. The dream they have this night is different and though they don’t see anything disturbing they feel anxious when they wake up. They pick up the journal Mettaton gave them, and write; both to put it out of their mind and to make sure they won’t forget. 

_ April 15 2075 _

_ Last night was the first time I dreamt something else in a long time.I thought that I’d be happy when I dreamt something different, but I’m not. This scares me. I don’t understand what is happening in it. I’m back in the black empty space, and Chara is there. The first person I dreamt about, with the smooth hair, pale skin and really red eyes. _

_ But they’re not alone anymore. There’s someone next to them, but when I tried to talk to them I woke up. They had their back to me, they had brown hair and flowers on their hair. They were wearing Sans’ coat. I think it’s me. A mirror? I can’t see my face in the dream and for some reason it scares me. _

 

It’s another day now, maybe today things will be different. It’s with that thought they get up early and sneak out of their room. Though they’re sure Mettaton must have cameras around the house and strictly forbade them from cleaning, they still take the times they can’t sleep to clean or make things to eat. Frisk decides their host must’ve given up at some point, since he and Papyrus keep letting them get away with anything. They know why they’re being so considerate, what they’re trying to do; but rather than think about it, they busy their hands with work to quell the thoughts. Staying depressed won’t do anyone any good.

 

After breakfast they call Flowey, he’s getting ready to leave for Japan and can’t talk much. Lately it seems like everyone is running around trying to solve the problem with the human souls. Frisk forgets sometimes, that there was actually a bigger problem behind Bliz’s death, because it honestly feels like nothing else could’ve been as important. They leave their friend be and cradle the handlink in their hands, still feeling the urge to talk. They know they’ve postponed it long enough and are surprised when she picks up the phone before it rings for a third time.

 

“Hello, Frisk? I’m so glad you called…How are you doing?” Sylvia doesn’t seem to mind, she understands why they wouldn’t talk to her. It’s her job to understand isn’t it?

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.” they say politely.

 

“Don’t be. I’m glad you called when you were ready and not before. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what Sans had done. I can’t share the things he tells me with anyone, the same way I can’t share the things you and I talk about. I know it affected you and for that I’m sorry, it was never my intention to hurt you.” She says calmly.

 

“I know you were just doing your job…I had just found out about it and I was…upset.”

 

“I understand, I didn’t take it personal… Is there anything you’d like to share right now?” she asks, relief clear in her voice.

 

Maybe she does care. So they talk with her, it becomes easier as they repeat to themselves that it’s her job to help. They couldn’t take everything she did personally because she wasn’t there just to be their friend. They tell her about leaving the house, about Bliz and about Dahlia. They tell her about their dreams and the way things are now with Sans and his brother. She listens and gives them advice as usual, it’s relieving to say everything they think knowing they won’t be judged or pandered.

 

“Now that you are in a safe place, with people that care about you, take the time to recover. Let yourself go through your mourning process, it’s not something that will happen overnight and only you’ll know when you’re done. There’s no need to force yourself to be cheerful or bottle it up.”

 

“…Alright. I’ll talk to Flowey later, when he’s settled.”

 

“That sounds good. You can also talk to me or Toriel. I don’t think this is really the time to be concerned with your memories, since they seem to be returning gradually. So, please, focus on taking care of yourself. Follow Papyrus’ advice about your physical health because it will make your emotional recovery easier. I sent you some exercises to practice expressing your feelings in constructive ways, try them out and let me know which ones worked best for you, when you can.”

 

“I will…Thank you.”

 

Papyrus is thrilled to be in charge of helping them stay healthy, and doesn’t bother to hide it. He calls himself their personal trainer, even wearing a shirt with that says so. He has even synched their handlinks so that they have alarms for everything: when to get up, when to train and when to go to sleep. They wouldn’t admit it at first but it’s helping, even with the occasional nightmare they are sleeping better and have gained some weight.   


 

It’s been a little over two months since they’ve started living here and not only have they recovered they weight they’d lost: they’ve surpassed it. Though they have no muscle their dermal cartilage has thickened in some areas and hardened in others, giving their body an edgier appearance. Sans seems to have followed their lead and though he still has trouble sleeping, he also has gotten in better shape by training with them. It’s as they’re returning from one of those training sessions that Mettaton stops them suddenly.

 

“Frisk…could I speak with you for a moment?” he asks, rather quietly.

 

“Sure, what is it?”

 

“I have something I want to show you, if you would please follow me.”

 

Frisk washes up briefly, worried at the lack of exclamations or flashiness in the robot. Mettaton leads them to his bedroom, the one where he recharges his battery, not where he sleeps with Papyrus, thankfully. He shows them to the elaborate couch in front of the window and sits next to them, no posing, no modelling, just sitting there. It’s a little unsettling.

 

“As you know this body of mine…was made by Alphys.” they nod, he continues, eyeing them warily before letting his body slide out its extra set of limbs and eyes. “I don’t know if you knew this but originally I was a ghost monster. Ghosts are can take over objects and overtime if they bond with that object it becomes their permanent physical body.” They stare at him, their one eye shining in wonder as they nod.

 

“I read about that, you mean like DJ Blook? I thought you were related but just happened to be different types of monsters.”

 

He can’t help but smile. “Yes, exactly like my cousin, and no, we’re the same, only he hasn’t settled in a body yet…What I was getting at is that this body, wasn’t originally like this. I asked Alphys to make it so that I couldn’t change forms anymore because originally…this body was made to be a weapon.” He put away his extra limbs and stroked his stomach pensively before he could bring his eyes to theirs. “A weapon to gather human souls.” he finishes. They frown at his words but say nothing for quite a while. When they do, they sound neutral but it still makes him tense.

 

“Did you…kill anyone?”

 

“…I did, yes. Many years before I first saw you, but most of their souls were no good to break the barrier…I gave up after my first two captures. I’ve always loved the flair of battle, but never really enjoyed killing. So I kept leaving my body since I wasn’t bonded to it…But our king didn’t like that; the other monsters were getting desperate, so more…drastic measures were necessary.” he explains, the direction this conversation was going was becoming more upsetting for himself than he’d anticipated.

 

“What do you mean drastic measures? More drastic than taking someone’s soul?”

 

“I guess you could say that…The next time I entered this body I became trapped inside it.”

 

“It-you mean it became your body? Like, your permanent physical body?”

 

“Not exactly. Simply put, it was decided I would no longer be allowed to leave this body. Alphys was ordered to trap me inside this form, since this machine wouldn’t work without my soul. The only difference was that now I wouldn’t be the one in control. If I didn’t follow and order they could just press a button and force me to. I was sent to Papyrus as a tool to help him find the last four souls we needed, that’s how we met actually.”

 

The orange fragment in his stomach glowed a little brighter, he seemed to find comfort in it. “Then fifty seven years ago I saw you for the first time. The last soul…” he pauses, his two visible eyes rimmed with tears. He looks so guilty. The worried look on their face turns hard when he finishes. He knows.

 

“You’re going to tell me you didn’t mean to kill me, aren’t you?” they laugh bitterly, the feeling of angry righteousness seething in their chest reminds them of Chara for a second and they pause. They take a fake deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

They are not like Chara, they are Frisk. Frisk who is always kind, Frisk who can forgive anything. They realize that despite the bitterness, it’s not impossible to forgive him, just like it wasn’t with Papyrus. They can’t even remember how many times Mettaton killed them, and they know that for him those moments didn’t even happen. They relax marginally before they continue.

 

“It’s fine, because I can’t even remember you killing me…Even if I did it won’t change the fact that in this time, you never did. You won’t remember all the times you could’ve killed me and I don’t know if I ever will, so it doesn’t matter. I’m here right now and things are different.” The heat in their voice tapers down into hard acceptance as they finish.

 

They see it clearly now. That’s why it hurt so much for Sans and Flowey to hide the truth. Flowey and him were the only ones who knew everything. The only ones that shared what happened with them, and to ignore that truth, just feels like betrayal.

 

“Frisk…I…I am so very sorry…It doesn’t matter if I didn’t know about it because at some point another version of me hurt you, I tried to hurt you. Not knowing doesn’t change the fact that it affects you, that’s why I wanted to ask if you wanted to see…”

 

Mettaton’s crying. Real tears, not the dainty things he dabbed away while watching a movie; but big tears that float away from his eyes, falling impossibly upwards, tears that make his soul flutter and his eyes dull. The last of Frisk’s anger fizzles out. He’s hurt too and in the end what good would it do to let him wallow in pointless guilt? They get his tissue box and bring it over, he seems almost timid now, as if made frail by the veracity of his emotions.

 

“I didn’t mean to get so sidetracked but I wanted to explain the situation before I just put it out there. The truth is I pulled you aside to ask if you’d like to see the remaining data from…from that time.” he looks them in the eye with a resolute expression.

 

“What data? What are you-” then it hits them. “…you recorded the fight? You recorded me when I…?”

 

He nods curtly. “I don’t have the original video file since it was…confiscated. But I have bits and pieces from my own back up.” he gets up and opens his cabinet, pushing some bottles aside to open a compartment and pull out a box. “ They were taken out when I came to the surface and Alphys…returned my body to me. I can still open some of these, if you want to see them?” He opens the box, it’s full things that look like small hard drives inside glass containers. He picks a red and yellow one and part of the inside of his wrist recedes to show a slot. He fits it inside and uses the lens on the palm of his hand to project images upon the wall. Images of the old Underground.

 

“…Show me.” they say simply, taking his free hand in theirs. He squeezes it tight and starts going through the pictures one by one.

 

In the first they’re nothing but a blotch of color next to a red sweater topped with eyes that glow like hot coals. Sans. He’s carrying them on his back, they’re lost inside a drooping coat and swells of flowers. Only their hair and the bottom of their face are visible, the rest is either fabric or flowers. Flowey is wound across their body, holding them tight against Sans as they scurry this way and that, teleporting and dodging. Though he looks ready to kill Mettaton, and does in fact attack him, Sans doesn’t aim to deliver a finishing blow. In just a few slides the images are done, they’ve fled. 

 

Mettaton continues, skipping through images as he made his way back to Alphys. The doctor looks, for lack of a better word, unhinged. Her eyes are wide, dark circles under them, her mouth is snarling and even in the poor quality of the image they can see a line of dribble going down her chin. The lab is dark and dreary with animal specimens floating in jars or spread in a mangled heap in the operating tables.

 

The images shift to monitors showing images of the entire underground, then there’s caverns and finally a very familiar chamber in the ruins. Mettaton’s hand tightens on their own painfully, it still doesn’t prepare them. Sans is kneeling on a bed of flowers, head hunched over a pile of yellow blossoms and a coat. The tears they’d choked back pour out painfully as they stare at their own dead body in his arms. Mettaton doesn’t stop the images but pulls out his other two arms and wraps them around Frisk. In the picture their face is covered in watery red and they know it isn’t blood, but his tears. The pictures change to a crowd of monsters, they recognize the king because he looks like Toriel, they see Alphys and Papyrus. Then they see, through his eyes, the first time he sees the surface.

 

A glorious sunrise welcoming them all to a new world. The images turn blurry and rosy, the light of the sun mixed with his tears. They turn to him now, feeling sad and angry and in some strange way happy for him, for them all. At least they know their death wasn’t pointless. Even so, was it really fair they never got to see it themselves until now? They didn’t ask to fall under Mt. Ebbot, they didn’t ask to have a red soul, to be the only thing standing between monsters and their freedom. They don’t know what to feel or what to think and just let him hold them while they cry.

 

Sylvia was right, this was painful, but facing the truth head-on was eventually cathartic, even freeing. From that day on they stopped shying away from what they could find. Frisk put all of their energy  into getting better, following the exercises she’d given them, even if they didn’t seem to have a point sometimes, any little thing that brought them closer to being better was good enough. When they had a nightmare they would record it, calm down and go back to sleep. What was done was done, there was no point in lingering on it if it kept making them miserable. So they trained, they cleaned and cooked when Mettaton wasn’t looking. They kept going, even if they weren’t sure where they were heading just yet.

 

 

Dahlia’s picture in the news is a grim reminder of why they can’t leave the house, though it doesn’t stop the urge to. It’s been long enough now for them to have seen pretty much every part of the mansion. As summer comes New York they realize that the pool is for parties or decoration since neither Papyrus and Mettaton can swim. Though Papyrus assures them that as long as they use floaties they’ll be fine, they have to agree with Sans for once and admit that with their body it’s just easier to sink to the bottom and walk. They’ve taken to camping out in the backyard, letting Mettaton use his projectors to map out the barely visible constellations, even Sans has to admit it’s interesting for a while. By the end of that week they’ve played most of the video games at least once; and all of Papyrus’ board games and puzzles at least twice. The mansion is starting to feel like a prison and the only thing keeping their mind from plummeting into crippling boredom or depression is their books, training and the prospect of nurturing a better taste in movies in Mettaton.

 

For Sans it’s a different story. Getting back into fighting shape after years of being depressed and later working as an electronics repair guy, has been the bane of his existence. Papyrus is relentless and not in the least bit shy to use dirty tricks in order to get him to workout. Both teasing him about his jealousy of Antoine and flattering him copiously when he succeeds. But after the first month his rivalry with the guard loses its charm; it’s obvious the insectoid never really cared for it anyway, and his misplaced frustration wears off eventually. So now he’s left alone with his thoughts and his garbled feelings. Still no closer to explaining them to himself let alone express them to Frisk, all he has left is bickering with Mettaton.

 

That damn robot relishes every time he’s able to get under his skin, but it’s one of the only things that stays the same and he embraces it as the only constant in his life, feeling pathetic all the while. Even following Frisk around has slowly become more and more pointless; it’s apparent in just a few short years they might not even need his help. They can look out for themselves at least. In the end it’s all a tiresome cycle of whether or not there’s any point of him being in their life; and whether or not he’ll ever get the guts to ask them about it. That night, like many before it, he wanders around the house; either with insomnia or with the sheer stubbornness of not wanting to sleep. 

 

At this point he’s hard-pressed to find the difference.

 

 

 

The charger notifies Mettaton he’s an hour away from a full charge and the sound it makes wakes him from his sleep mode. Maybe his cousin was right; a machine body had been a troublesome choice. Being able to dream while your body continues to conduct all these functions without your input was unsettling. Monsters dreams were a reflection of their soul, a way to see their innermost feelings manifest and better prepare them to manage those feelings. He read that humans dream to let part of their brain rest, and that their dreams are a movie made from scraps of thoughts, memories and sensations. It seemed a monster soul in a machine body had a mixture of both. His feelings seemed to control the data his machine brain would project as he dreamed, so the result was an odd mix of memories and feelings that left a metaphorical bad taste in his mouth when he woke. He gets up to make a midnight snack and as he walks back with teas and cookies in hand, he can’t help but notice the faint reddish light at his periphery: Sans was up and about again.

 

“You do know we have guards 24/7 right? You should be resting.”

 

The skeleton startles, his eyes lighting up for a moment before they recognize him.

 

“Can’t sleep.” he growls.

 

“I bet, what with all that paranoia and jealousy…” the robot says, savoring his cookies.

 

“What jealousy?”

 

“The one you have for Antoine, I see how you look at them.”

 

“I’m not jealous of ‘em, I’m just keeping an eye socket out fer Frisk.” the skeleton puts his hands in his pockets and sits back down on the couch. 

 

“Uh-huh, and the fact they spend more time with the head of security than they do with you has nothing to do with it.” he says, earning him the middle finger. The fact Sans hasn’t teleported away tells him the skeleton might still be listening, so despite knowing this has an 87.6% chance of turning into an argument, he continues. “Being the wonderful host I am, I feel compelled to help you…But because I have a low tolerance for bullshit, I’m only going to ask this once: What did you do?” the robot asks, tapping his foot on the ground, which makes a muted clanging through his slippers.

 

“What are you talking ‘bout?”

 

“Well, from what I’ve seen of Frisk, they’re almost as sociable as my dear Papy.” the skeleton makes a gagging sound that he ignores. “Yet despite the fact you survived the old Underground and lived together this entire time; they’re keeping their distance from you. So I know you must’ve done something.”

 

“ ‘S none of your business.” he deflects.

 

“It is because you’re living in my house, Sans.”

 

“Couldn’t wait to hold it over my head, huh tincan?” he glares dangerously.

 

So much for that 12.4% chance.

 

“Oh for the love of- You’re five foot two, anything I hold is over your damn head, Sans! That’s not what I mean. I mean that if you really give a damn about their well being, you’ll fix this. How do you expect to survive this situation together if you can’t even rely on each other?” he rants.

 

“…I know that, ‘s just-”

 

“What was it? Tell me what it is you did before we start talking around it in circles. It’s infuriating!”

 

“Shaddup and I’ll tell ya, trash can! Jeez!” the robot grinds his teeth, his extra eyes threatening to open. “…I didn’t tell them that, back then, Papyrus and me…killed them. Many times actually, over the different timelines.”

 

“Timelines?” he asks too genuinely.

 

“Don’t fucking start with the crappy acting, I told Paps and I know he tells you everything, and you tell Alphys everything, and by now everyone probably knows about it…”

 

“Fine,yes. Yes he did and no I didn’t tell Alphys. Frisk told her about it themselves…Hmm, let me guess: they found out about it by accident and now they don’t trust you.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“Marvelous…Oh, you and Alphys have so much in common it’s not even funny.” the robot mumbles around his teacup.

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

“Everything. First of all, you’re both very smart for some things, but can be complete idiots in matters of the heart, and I know exactly why.”

 

“I don’t like to repeat myself either, so how about ‘Fuck you’ instead.” he turns away but Mettaton cuts him off by stepping in front of him, too fast to avoid unless he teleports.

 

“What I mean to say is that you both hide things obsessively, like you think the people you care about will hate you if they ever found out what you’ve done.” this makes the skeleton pause and he continues. “ See it goes like this: you act like what they can’t see won’t hurt them, but in the meantime you’re carrying all those secrets around and the one that gets hurt is you…” Sans diverts his eyes and the robot takes that as confirmation.

 

“And when they eventually find out, because trust me, they always do; they end up hurting even more. They’re hurt because it happened and they’re hurt because you lied about it. So in the end you’re both hurt and for what? Pretending you were in control of their feelings or your own this whole time? Don’t kid yourself darling, you don’t hide things from others because you’re protecting them…You hide things to protect yourself.”

 

“The hell would you know?” he scowls at the robot expecting a smug look, but instead Mettaton looks sincere, his soul shining bright and steadily in its container. Sans can’t look him in the eye.   
“Because I know what your problem is.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes. You just don’t love yourself enough.”

 

“Oh, so that’s it? That’s the best advice you got? I just gotta act like the sun shines out of my arse like you do? I don’t think so.” he scoffs while the robot takes his hand and drags him over to the couch. Once he’s sure the skeleton won’t go anywhere, Mettaton perches his mechanical body in perfect poise over the arm of the couch and finishes his snack.

 

“Let me put it like this. If Papyrus rejected me it would hurt, because I want him to love me, but not because I think I’m not good enough for him; I already know I’m utterly wonderful. But you, on the other hand, hide things from him and Frisk because you’re afraid of rejection. Not just because you care about what they think, but because you believe you don’t deserve their affection…even when they so obviously want to give it.”

 

“What, did you download a psychology book or something? Gimme a break.” he rubs his spine absentmindedly, tired from all the self-imposed guard duty, the tension around him and just the general bullcrap.

 

“I’m talking from experience. I’ve seen my friends and my fans suffer, fight and even having Fallen over this. I say it because I know it’s important and because if you won’t face the truth I’m going to keep slapping you in the face with it until you do! Papyrus deserves to see you happy! Do you really think his happiness is complete without yours!? Why can’t you see how badly he wants you to be happy?! You’re not an idiot so, goddamn it Sans, stop acting like one!” he raises his voice at the end, all three of his eyes open and glowing with anger and tears.

 

“…Welp…you, uh, sure like to talk a lot…” he grumbles uneasily, not used to see the other express his emotions so plainly.

 

“Why I-Goddamn it I swear-!” the whine of electricity fills the room as the robot charges his attack.

 

“BUT…I gotta admit you do have a point there.” he concedes, hands up in a placating gesture, making Mettaton pause in surprise. He grubles warily.

 

“What was that?” The star crosses his arms, fingers clanging impatiently on his arm.

 

“ I apologized already…told them the truth but they’re still distant…I dunno what else…” he shrugs helplessly.

 

“I see…What exactly did you do when you apologized?”

 

“I, uh, told them what happened and that I was a fucking idiot-”

 

“They already know that, what else?”

 

“Shaddup…then I told them why I hid it from them. Told them I didn’t want ‘em to be scared of me or of Paps. Then I promised I wouldn’t do that shit again…” Sans explains.

 

“That must have been difficu…wait, you didn’t explain WHY you killed them?”

 

“No…I thought it was obvious, with being Underground and the barrier-”

 

“Oh my god, you ARE an idiot! What if they don’t remember? Even if they did, don’t you think they’d want to hear it from you?…And you say I’m selfish, at least I don’t assume how others feel.” the robot seems outraged.

 

“You just did that, like at the start of this conversation.” he quips.

 

“No, I pointed out how you were acting, not how you were feeling about it. I have no idea how you feel about anything because you won’t tell anyone!” he replies with indignation.

 

“…I know.” Sans admits.

 

They try to finish the conversation before it escalates into anything involving lasers again and Sans decides to head off to sleep. But before he can leave the robot grabs ahold of his arm and keeps going.

 

“One more thing. If you really want them to forgive you, you’re going to have to do something about your-”He eyes Sans from head to toe. “…presentation.”

 

“I’m not letting you mess with my clothes, Metatton.” he rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh no, darling. I’m not talking about just your clothes, I’m talking about all of this.” he gestures to everything with a waving motion.

 

“Seriously, fuck you.”

 

“Shut up, that’s your brother’s job. We need to do something about this whole ‘I don’t give a crap’ attitude. Just because you act like you don’t care, then care a little bit more than usual it doesn’t mean you’re being sweet. Newsflash: you’re still a douche!” He’s starting to go on another rant here, it’s better to leave before he picks up steam. Sans tugs his arm away but Mettaton grabs him again, this time with two hands. Welp, now he’s done it. The robot uses two of his arms to hold him and the other two to make dramatic gestures as he talks.

 

“You need to make a…a meaningful gesture, not only being honest but something that shows you can be caring and humble. Show them you’re willing to better yourself for them. Everyone loves a good redemption story! ”

 

“And you’re gonna teach me humility…really?” he asks sarcastically.

 

“Of course! Learning to better yourself? That’s what love’s about, idiot! And I have plenty of experience in love, which is in part why I’m so wonderful! What you need is honesty; with them but also with yourself. And who could possibly do a better job at teaching you than me? I’m plenty honest AND caring to all my loved ones. After all how can I call myself fabulous if I can’t show my love fabulously? ” he says, positively glowing.

 

“Yeah, how can ya?” he drawls, practically hanging from Mettaton’s arms as his brother-in-law starts to pace excitedly.

 

“I’m going to help you get your bony ass in shape. Mark my words, you’re going to sweep that cutie pie off their feet!” he declares, laughing as if they’ve already won.

 

“Wait, wait, wait…what the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Because you told them what happened I guess you have accumulated some honesty points there but in order to get them to completely forgive you, you need to be entirely forthcoming when you apologize, no half assed truths…but what you may not realize is that it also helps if you can WOW them! But that’s what I’m here for! I’ll give you a hand, or four actually, with your apology so that eventually you can work your way up to that puppy love stage. Trust me, the sooner you get into it and out of it the better. It’s sweet and you would think its the best part but then you get to the ‘comfortable stage’ and then later on to the ‘know everything about each other’ stage, you’ll know what I mean. Oh, but after that is when the real drama sta-” the crazy train took off already and Sans was barely on it.

 

“Wait you think w-we’re dating?” he asks finally catching up.

 

“Well…Yes! It’s a little obvious, to be honest.”

 

“What the fuck? No! We’re friends, j-just friends! Why would I-I mean-Why would they-?” he stumbles on his words and on his feet trying to get the metal hands off his arms.

 

“Oh boy, you just lost some of those honesty points in my book. There’s no point denying it, silly. I’ve seen the way you act around them and your soul too. They may not notice but I can. It’s changed since they showed up. All that blue that keeps coming up when they’re around.” Mettaton raises an eyebrow with amusement, Sans blushes and a growls. “Fine! If you want to continue to wallow in self pity and ignore my invaluable advice, it’s your loss. Buh-bye!”

 

Mettaton lets him go and sashays out of the room with a smug smile. It only takes two painfully awkward dinners alone with Frisk for Sans to crack as ask for his help; the bastard actually counted the time it took him to give in down to the seconds.

 

“I knew you’d see things my way, lover boy. Ready to shape up?” he props his legs on the table, one hand on his cheek, the other holding it at the elbow, like some sort of evil executive.

 

“I fucking hate you.” Sans grumbles.

 

“Ah-ah-ah, what do we say when we want a favor?” he wags his finger at him, he just growls.

 

“Help me out and I won’t tell Papyrus what really happened to his tank tops.”

 

“Jokes on you, I already told him and made him new ones. Now, my kohai, I said…ARE YOU READY TO SHAPE UP?” he gets up on the table, music playing from his speakers as stage lights appear from a slot in the ceiling. He had this all planned, didn’t he?

 

“Yeah…senpai.” he chews out hating himself.

 

Mettaton leaps off the table and places a hand on his bony shoulder, the other on his own metal forehead dramatically as he goes off on another rant. Is he really that desperate to fix this?

 

Yes, yes he is.

 

Sans doesn’t know how badly he’ll regret this, but even he has to admit, he’d do just about anything just to make things with Frisk go back to the way they used to be, back when they trusted him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sans. He always gets the short end of the stick...No I'm not above making short jokes. I'm barely 5' tall, I'm not above making any short jokes. This chap made me realize the way I integrated Underfell in some of the characters is by making them super bickery. That said it's very fun to make Sans and Mettaton bicker, if you couldn't tell. There might not be any more of that so I enjoyed the hell out of it and I hope you did too. Hope you enjoyed reading and see ya on the next one!


	30. Tailored apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans finally gives in and follows Mettaton's advice in an attempt to gain Frisk's trust back.

 

 

 

“Dinner? Outside?!…you’re nuts. Paps’ not gonna let that happen.”

 

“Trust me he will. It’ll be in one of my resorts, so it will be entirely secured, I swear it.” Mettaton nods, still doodling something in his projector. Sans ignores him, even when he turns to him and his eyes flash in something that looks suspiciously like the robot is scanning him.

 

“Just moving us outta here will be an issue.” he grumbles.

 

“Sans, I have a helicopter. There is no issue.”

 

“He’s still not going to agree.”

 

“Oh, I have my ways of persuading him.” his brother-in-law winks lewdly and Sans makes a gagging motion. “Don’t you worry your thick skull over it, what you need to be worried about is what you’ll say and what you’ll wear.” he continues.

 

“The truth and clothes, there, done.”

 

“You’re such a charmer. If telling the truth was all you needed, wouldn’t you be hanging all over each other by now?”

 

“That’s not how it is, I told ya already.”

 

“Whatever, just trust me on this and give it a try. What’s the worst that could happen if you dress up? I’m not telling you what to say, exactly, just what to wear. I’ll set up the scene but it’s up to you to deliver the lines.” he says, closing the design he was working on and bending so that he’s eye level with the skeleton. “And you better make damn sure your feelings will reach them. Whatever happens from then on it’s up to you two…And to be perfectly honest, I don’t care what you do, I’m still going to ship it. Now stand over there, move!”

 

Sans is startled into moving, still mulling over the robot’s words as he projects a new set of clothes over his body, a dark blue pinstripe suit with a black shirt and a silk tie. Mettaton hums and walks around him, he just stands there awkwardly, still thinking. The robot clicks his tongue and messes with the projection, showing the set without the jacket, with and without a vest, different colors, different shoes. In a few minutes Sans just falls asleep right there and Mettaton continues working on the design until one of his excited squeals startles the skeleton awake.

 

It doesn’t take a week for Mettaton to convince Papyrus and Sans doesn’t want to know what went on there. The rest of the week Mettaton rushes to and fro making him and Frisk try on his designs, even if they’re just holograms for now. He goes through many sets of suits for both of them before they choose. Sans is still surprised he let both of them pick what they liked. The tailor is there by the end of the week, making the final adjustments. For some stupid reason Mettaton won’t let him see Frisk’s clothes and vice versa. Sans just hopes this won’t escalate; he’s not sure how much more of this nonsense he can handle.

 

In just a matter of days they’re about to leave and he’s getting dressed. Mettaton walks into the changing room wearing an unusually plain dress; at least, plain for his standards. He’s not wearing his shoulder pads and the dark metal of his body has been brushed so it doesn’t look as shiny. The cream colored fabric is glittery but other than a slit to show his leg, it has no decorations, his hair is pinned up, still hiding half his face and his heels are a pearly color to match the dress. Even his jewelry is sparse and plain, Sans just stares confused.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“I’m helping you get dressed of course. I know you don’t know how to wear a suit so I came to check on you.” he states.

 

“I know that, I mean what’s with the plain getup? Thought ya were all ‘bout the attention?”

 

“What’s so plain about this spectacular number?” he turns around, posing elegantly to show off an impossibly low cut that stops just above his butt, Sans grimaces.

 

“You know what I mean, where are all the, I dunno…flashy sparkles ‘n shit?”

 

Mettaton rolls his eyes at him, his lashes longer than usual and slaps Sans’ hands away to straighten the vest. He adjusts his tie, stepping back to asses him before putting the jacket on him and straightening the whole thing again, what a perfectionist.

 

“There are no ‘sparkles’ because I’m not the star tonight…you guys are. It’s your time to shine, I believe in you my little kohai.” he says finally, giving him a quick sincere smile before he pulls himself back to his full height and struts to the curtain at the end of the dressing room. He looks over his shoulder and gives him a red eyed look. “But I warn you, if you hurt Frisk’s feelings, I’ll make you wish we’d never met.”

 

“…too late for that.” Sans mutters to the empty room. He turns to the mirror feeling self-conscious, not just because the last time he wore a suit his brother was getting married, but also because despite all the layers he still feels bare. It’s now or never, time to own up.

 

 

 

Papyrus is waiting for him at the entrance lobby, he makes to step off the top of the stairs and shortcuts to his side smoothly, Mettaton rolls his eyes, but there’s no bitterness in his mouth. His brother’s clothes match his husband’s, a trinity knot on his cream silk tie. Papyrus’ eyes glow brightly and the husbands stare at each other like he’s not even there. The robot’s soul is shining brightly from under the fabric of his gown; the sight makes Sans feel self-conscious and he looks away, embarrassed by how plainly they show off their affection.

 

“Oh my, sweetie, you look wonderful! Come on down, let’s take a picture together!”

 

“Thanks Mettaton. You look guys really good too.” they say simply.

 

He hears their steps and stares at them from their feet up as they come closer. Heeled dress boots up to their bare knee, dress shorts and a detailed fallow colored coat, with a coattail draping behind them. A string of beads leads from one of the buttons of their coat to a brooch that pins some of their own golden flowers to its lapel. He stares at the slim bow tied around the neck of their dress shirt as they stand before him. He can’t bring himself to look up at their face until they speak.

 

“Wow, Sans! You look…really different, you look good. Thank you so much for this Mettaton, Papyrus.”

 

Sans stares at Frisk as they look up at their hosts, maybe it’s the light or something Mettaton did, but their face is shining, pearly smooth. The stray flowers that sometimes spill from their eye or around their neck are not there anymore, they look wholesome, more complete somehow. Mettaton makes them pose for a photo, asking Sans to use his magic to hold the camera steady as he poses dramatically with Papyrus behind them. Sans turns to take in their face, they look somewhat happy and he finds his own soul lifting at the idea.

 

“You look real nice.” he blurts out, this time their eyes meet.

 

“Oh…thank you, you look very good too.” they say easily, he can’t even say thanks as Mettaton ushers them into the car that’s driving them to where their helicopter is waiting. When they arrive at the back of the estate the robot makes a point of sitting with Papyrus, leaving the smaller pair is seats to them. He shortcuts ahead of Frisk, startling them.

 

“Here, let me help ya.” Sans says simply, holding out his hand. 

They pause but take it and let him help them board. They put on their seatbelts and he tries to ignore the giddy look Mettaton sends him as the helicopter takes off. Though they take the shortest possible route, Frisk still gushes at the scenery; the lights of the city, the cars and the billboards mingle together in the grid below. They comment on it excitedly, and Sans keeps the conversation going as he used to before all this. Frisk stares at him for a bit, as if trying to figure out what’s changed but they don’t ask. They just keep looking out the window and he sticks to glancing at their expression in the reflection. Neither of them says much but their magic is fizzling with anticipation, and they can feel it emanating from the other every time their shoulders touch.

 

They arrive at the hotel roof in less than an hour, and enter just as swiftly. Antoine and the other guards escort them in, where Jaques and many of the other butlers and maids are waiting. The entire venue is tastefully decorated, glittering chandeliers and dark gold curtains. Frisk in not the only one impressed, Sans is too for once, that robot could really out do himself sometimes. A small live band plays a jazzy tune he remembers from his own collection and he finds himself tapping his hand against his femur to the beat. Mettaton gives him a wink and he has the sinking suspicion that he knows where that security breach in his handlink came from. They sit at the table and chat amiably as the appetizers roll in. Even in this detail the damn robot seems to have kept tabs; as they bring out all of their favorites, albeit in fancier preparation. He doesn’t bother feeling jealousy, as having your computerized brain gather data about other people doesn’t exactly make you thoughtful, and enjoys the food anyways. Right as the conversation starts to wind down Mettaton gasps dramatically, getting their attention.

 

“Oh my, what’s this?! I almost forgot, wasnt today something special Papy?” he turns to his husband, grabbing his arm. Something about this sets off warning bells in Sans’ mind and he edges a little closer to Frisk.

 

“Is that so? What day is it, my love?” says Papyrus playing along.

 

“Why I think it might be…an anniversary of some sort, isn’t that right Sans?”

 

Sans frowns, eyes going back and forth between the two husbands who look at him expectantly. See, this is why he hated Mettaton, he always pulled random stunts like this. They clearly expected him to know the answer. He’s sure is not their own anniversary because Mettaton would not let anyone forget the damn thing, neither is it any of their birthdays…

 

“Oh…oh!” he turns to Frisk, bones rattling in nerves as the realization hits him. “It’s been a year now since we, uh, met, Frisk, and uh…” he turns to them watching the realization hit them and just stares, at a loss for words.

 

Their eye socket widens in confusion then curves in pleasant surprise, they look away, eye shifting back and forth as if looking back at their memories, then they smile at him. A real smile. He realizes he done for; he really meant that promise and now he’s stuck by their side until he dies. How their eye shines at him and the asymmetrical way their smile spreads on their face until it overtakes it, make him realize he doesn’t care.   


“T-thanks for being my friend, for always being kind… and just for being here.” he manages.

 

“You’re welcome…and thank you, for making me feel welcome; for being my friend too. I’m really glad we met.” they say genuinely.

 

In the following silence they hear a high pitched whine and turn to see Mettaton, gripping Papyrus’ arm and staring at them with a delighted expression on his face. God forbid he recorded that entire, awkward ordeal, the nosy bastard. Before Sans can say anything else, Jaques maid wheel in a cake. The frosting is white and says ‘Happy first year on the surface, Frisk!’ in chocolate is flashy cursive he recognizes as Mettaton’s handwriting. The robot insists on cutting it himself and makes a light show it of using his lasers. Even with slightly singed edges it’s still delicious. They eat and chat, his brother in law makes an effort to include him in the conversation, which Sans won’t readily admit but he appreciates.

 

“You know what goes well after dessert? Drinks! Let’s have a toast!” Mettaton says, he surely has the whole night scripted in that mechanical brain of his.

 

As if on cue the waiters bring various drinks and place them before each of them with a flourish. Frisk stares curiously, Mettaton’s is pink and iridescent, Papyrus’ is tall and white, with a slice of fruit, Sans’ is blood red and the one in front of them is yellowish and very bubbly. They glance at Sans nervously, he’s glaring at Mettaton.

 

“No thanks, I’d rather stay sober.” he growls pushing his cup away.

 

“What do you take me for? There’s no alcohol in this venue. All the drinks are virgin mixes, so you can drink as much as you like.” he waves dismissively.

 

“Virgin Mary, eh?” he asks taking the blood red drink and eyeing it hungrily. “Where’s baby Jesus?”

 

“Drink your ketchup Sans.” Papyrus says irritably. Sans shrugs and goes to drink when Mettaton starts tapping his finger against his glass, the bell-like sound cutting through the music.

 

“Not yet, I would like to make a toast…To new friends and new members of our family…I hope we can share our lives and experiences for many years to come!”he extends the drink to Frisk, smiling. They reply with their own smile and cup. “And to love, of course! Cheers, darlings!” he winks at Sans before winding his arm effortlessly with Papyrus’ and batting his eyelashes at his husband over the glass.

 

Sans goes to taste his drink but feels a light tap of glass against it. He looks up at Frisk, who holds their glass against his for a moment before drinking what he really hopes is just sparkling juice. It’s not too long before Papyrus and Mettaton get caught up in each other. It’s fascinating to watch first hand how two monsters who seem so self absorbed become so enraptured in each other, then again its also a little nauseating. The husbands excuse themselves to dance, leaving the two of them in a slightly uncomfortable silence.

 

Sans glances at Frisk who is staring at the couple cut across the dancefloor, unsure of what to say to start a conversation. He pulls out his old deck of cards from a pocket and shuffles them, setting up a game of solitaire; a waiter immediately removes the dishes to give him space. He’s intensely aware of the moment Frisk drags their chair closer and he starts sweating.

 

“Could we play a game?” they ask simply. He looks up at them hopefully and nods, not trusting his voice. He reshuffles and hesitates.

 

“Durak?” they suggest and he complies. They play for a few minutes in silence, the music droning on in the background, all he can see is their hands holding the cards, he tries to keep his eyes there the whole time.

 

“I’m really sorry for what I did.” he blurts.

 

“…What part?”

 

“I’d say everything but that’s just too lazy, yeah, I know, even for me.” he says when they meet his eyes over the cards. He makes that nervous noise he makes sometimes, as if clearing his non- existent throat.

 

“When we first met I was just a dumb kid that saw a bunch of messed up things…It was so easy to lose everything; my job, my house…my dad…That’s probably why it was so hard to believe you’d forgive me. Good things didn’t come for free and they weren’t supposed to last that long.” once the words start spilling out they don’t stop. Frisk doesn’t interrupt, just listens.

 

“I didn’t notice the time thing at first…I just got that feeling, that deja vu. When I met you, you were the first new thing to happen to me in a while and I thought you were my ticket outta there. I honestly didn’t like killing, but it was easier. Killing you was ‘posed to be that one last thing in the way of our freedom…Then I realized you remembered everything. I thought I was the only one and I…couldn’t believe that even though you knew what I did, you still said thank you every time I helped you. Never thought we could become friends one day…” His voice is rough as he finishes, the game ends, they take the cards from him and shuffle them to start again and wait. Their brow is scrunched with thoughtful intensity as they wait for him, so he goes on, the words breaking out as if they’d been waiting to leave his mouth this whole time.

 

“I-I wanted to help keep you safe so bad…then you were gone, just like that and I thought-I thought you’d come back, like you always did…but you didn’t. I waited years for you, an it took me a while to realize that if I stayed there, I was gonna lose my goddamn mind…Then, right when I thought I was getting over it, I find you again and I thought this must a chance to make up for it…to get it right on the first try. So I didn’t tell ya. I wanted to start from scratch, for you to feel safe with me, to just trust me like you used to…to treat me like there’s still something I-I’m good for…” his voice is so low they have to strain to hear the end of it, they stare at the cards shaking in his hands.

 

“Thank you, very much, for telling me all this. I must’ve trusted you with my life back then. Right now though, I can’t remember why I did those things or how I felt about them. All I know is that right now I really do want to trust you.” he looks up at them, eyes shining hopefully. “But that also means I need you to trust me. No more lies, no more hiding things like that. Just like you promised. If you want to be here then really be here. I already care about you, so I’m not going to push you away just because there’s things I don’t like, or things you did wrong.”

 

Frisk stares at him expectantly, he seems troubled and relieved all at once, red pooling in his eye sockets. They put down the cards, moving their ribs in a fake sigh before they reach out for his hand. They place it gently over his, their long fingers more than enough to wrap around his thick claws. Sans turns his hand around and closes his fingers around theirs experimentally, staring at how they contrast each other, greens and reds, yellows and white. His magic sparks between them in his nerves, startling them. Frisk looks up at him and laughs softly, he laughs weakly, eye sockets teary but curved with a smile.

 

A sharp clattering sound startles them and they turn from side to side trying to locate the source. From a few meters away Mettaton and Papyrus are sitting on stools, eating snacks and watching them amusedly. The sporadic flashing of the robot’s eyes betray the fact he’s taking pictures of them. Sans scowls murderously and Papyrus laughs boisterously, getting up and carrying the robot back into the dance floor and away from the bone shards that hover threateningly behind his brother. Frisk’s laughter startles him and he turns to them, suddenly aware he is still holding their hand. He lets go, puts his hands in his pockets and mumbles some excuse to head out to the snack table.

 

“Wait.” they grab his sleeve and he freezes. “Can you…do you want to dance?”

 

He stares at them with wide eye sockets and shrugs, they seem to take that as a ‘yes’ and walk to the dancefloor. His joints are stiff with embarrassment and he’s aware of Mettaton’s eyes following his every move. Frisk stops in front of him, it seems they’re not sure of what to do either. They take his hands experimentally and shuffle side to side in place, looking at him. They dance just like they do when they think he’s not looking, it’s endearing. Sans follows the rhythm easily, but has no idea how to dance with a partner. Still, he pulls them a little closer and shuffles around trying to match their steps, they both sway awkwardly from side to side trying not to step on each other. Behind them Mettaton is twirling expertly in Papyrus’ arms and pauses behind Frisk, pointedly showing Sans where his arms are supposed to go. He bares his fangs at him over their shoulder, hoping he will go away, before turning back to them. He takes one of their hands and puts it on his hips and puts his own on their shoulder, holding the other hand aloft. The robot covers his face frustratedly but Sans ignores him. Frisk is now, only just taller than him, partly because of the heels but also because they’ve actually grown a bit in the past year. He prefers it this way and just keeps moving, trying to spin them slowly.

 

Eventually Mettaton switches with him, taking Frisk as his partner and showing them some steps. Papyrus then takes him along for a spin, literally spinning him and even dipping him in his arms, he can’t help but laugh. Like usual he just let’s his brother do what he wants and pays attention to the pointers he gives him. When they switch back to their original partners, Frisk and Sans are able to actually dance a few songs without looking like penguins learning how to walk, which is clearly progress. Soon enough he’s sweating and lets go of their hand to take that overdue trip to the snacks table, they shrug and take Mettaton up on his offer for another dance.

 

It’s while he’s piling the tiny sausages and sandwiches on his plate that the head of the guards approaches him.

 

“Sans, sir, we have a strange old lady at the reception. Says she came to see you and Frisk, she was, uh, very specific and gave us your password. We need you and Papyrus to come take a look.” Antoine scuttles over, showing him the lady’s picture in their handlink. It takes him a moment but he recognizes her: it’s that crazy fortune-teller from Waterfall.

 

“What the hell’s she doing here?” he grumbles, texting Papyrus and explanation before gripping Antoine’s arm and shortcutting them both to the first floor. The fact the insectoid monster doesn’t seem too disoriented would have irked him before, but right now he can’t afford to care. He puts his plate full of snacks in the reception counter and walks over.

 

“There you are Mustard! Or should I call ya Ketchup now? Tell these nice folk I’m your friend and let me in, ok? I haven’t eaten since I got here.”

 

“I don’t wanna be rude, but what the hell are you doing here, lady?” he squares his shoulders and crosses his arms looking down at her menacingly.

 

She seems completely unaffected, either because she doesn’t care or because she can’t really see him through her squinty eyes. “I traveled here to give you warning. It was very long trip mind you. Can I sit down with your nice friends up there?” She points above her head. “ I’ve never seen an idol in person and I could use a drink… I’m so thirsty even a Virgin Mary will do.” She looks at him, grinning her weird smile, one eye as round as a marble and shining blue.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, sorry for the delay, kidney stones had me rolling and not in the deep; had to go to the hospital. On the bright side if any of my characters ever gets stabbed I'll be able to explain it in detail. I hope you had a good time with this brief piece of comedy and fluff, cause we're back on the mystery and action portion. Let me know your theories for where the story is headed and if you can't understand something, I'll make sure to explain. Until the next one!
> 
> (๑-﹏-๑)/


	31. Living in the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party gets crashed by a crazy fortune teller with some ominous warnings and the skeletons and Mettaton realize they might need a new plan to keep Frisk safe.

 

“Don’t do your soul mumbo jumbo on me, young man! I’m too old for that junk…Just look and you’ll see.” she winks, closing that awful eye and bouncing in place lightly.

 

“Do you want me to do it?” Antoine whispers to him, their stinger all but sparkling with magic.

 

Sans stares at her, his poise still defensive and puts a little more magic in his eye, focusing to her chest as he pulls her soul out. It’s not hard to see it, it looks almost identical to Dahlia’s. Nearly as bright as Frisk A monster soul and a human soul tentatively overlapping. The human is a bright turquoise, covering her green beneath. He lets her soul go and his magic disperse to just gawk at her.

 

“I know I said to look but, now you’re making it weird. Can I have my drink now, please? And the Virgin Mary is a joke, I want some of the sparkly bubbly they gave your friend.”

 

Minutes later she’s rambling on and on in the elevator beside him, Antoine also keeps chattering nervously but what he’s making sounds more like bug chirping than actual words.

 

“Papyrus is going to kill me, Sans, we can’t just take her in there! What if this she’s a decoy or a lookout?” he says between chattering mandibles.

 

“Where else are we gonna take her? We gotta put her into custody anyway. I’ll talk to him, just…keep doing what you were doing and check if anyone followed her here.” he replies in a low voice.

 

“No one’s following me yet, but it don’t matter ‘cause she’s not the one who’s going to take it.” the lady butts in loudly.

 

“Who’s gonna take what?” he growls, annoyed at her nonsense.

 

“My soul. The cat’s not the one who’s gonna take it, the tiny fairy is.” she says matter-of-factly.

 

Antoine glares at him, all six eyes wide and shakes his head. They’re both thinking the same thing; but with the human soul in her possession, it doesn’t really matter how crazy she is: they can’t let her go. He walks back in to see the three of them waiting for him, they look concerned. The music has stopped and the two husbands are standing protectively next to Frisk. Sans walks to them, the fortune teller bouncing along behind him.

 

After briefly explaining the situation to his brother and confirming they are indeed still safe, they give in and follow her back to the table. Partly because she kept insisting on food and partly because she promised to explain the situation in exchange for it. The music starts again, slower this time, they have to bring in a stool for her to be able to look over the table, where all of them sit around her, staring expectantly.

 

“Alright, is anyone going to explain what’s going on or am I just going to have to assume?” Mettaton says finally.

 

“I think our…guest here owes us an explanation. How did you find us and who are you exactly?” Papyrus looms over her in his chair, with the same threatening confidence he uses with his prisoners.

 

The lady stops eating and stares at Frisk, pudgy cheeks bloated with food. She ignores Papyrus and addresses them. “I saw you with my eye and followed you, sweetie.” they just stare at her cluelessly. “I’m sorry about your friend…he was a good monster.”

 

“You’re outta line lady…How’d you even know that?” Sans growls next to her.

 

“I know he was, he…saved me.” Frisk says holding her gaze, she stares at them intently until they realize it. “You knew…that time at the ruins, you told me something about me losing a friend. Did you know what was going to happen to him?” they ask, getting up suddenly, the flower in their eye socket throwing off motes of light.

 

For the first time she looked serious. “…I did, yes…the future can’t change. I saw it, so it had to happen…this soul I found, that’s what it does. I gave you a warning: get ready to run. I meant it, we all have to run now. She will find you sooner if you don’t.”

 

“This lady has a human soul too, we might need to send her to Asgore.” Sans explains in a low voice to Papyrus who nods and sends a quick text to his guards.

 

“Why didn’t you warn him?!” Frisk exclaims suddenly, there’s tears pouring from their eye sockets but they ignore them and walk over to her. “Why didn’t you tell him so he didn’t have to-”

 

“You can’t change what happened, young one…you can’t change fate…please, don’t try. It always ends bad if you do.” She opens her other eye at them, its empty socket showing the bubbles that stream through and out of her head. She wipes their face softly, they stay frozen, confused. “What is your name, sweetie?”

 

“Frisk.” they reply, straightening. She looks at them strangely, her good eye open a sliver.

 

“I’m Kagure Ikababa. Look me up in register and calm down already.” she says at Papyrus over her shoulder, he complies muttering angrily, as he looks for her ID number. “Sit, I tell you the story.” She pats the stool but Mettaton is there first, moving all the chairs next to her so they can all hear her clearly.

 

“A year after the barrier broke I was in South Waterfall packing my tent, a rock came from the waterfall and hit me. I fell in the water and reached the bottom. I get lost in the current, can’t find my way back so I waits for the water to take somewhere I recognize. Then I saw a light and…it called me. I touch it and it burned to my soul. It showed me the way out but many other things too, like a voice in my head but with pictures.” They listen to her, Mettaton stares fixedly without blinking, surely recording the entire thing. “It took me years, tried to be alone but couldn’t. It needed to feed and I was too weak. So I had to go to where others could feed it…”

 

“Excuse me, could you clarify? Feed what exactly?” Mettaton interjects.

 

“The soul, to use power it takes power. Look, you can see.” She takes one of Papyrus’ hands. Mettaton looks at her and sees nothing, so he shrugs at her. “Use your machine eyes, silly ghost!”

 

He looks appalled but complies, running through various functions in his system, until he sees something in his electromagnetic scan. Energy from Papyrus is flowing into her hand and with every pulse of his wavelength, her soul shines a little brighter. He tries to slap her hand away but it’s squishy texture makes his hand slide over it, he growls and pulls Papyrus’ hand away.

 

“What is it, love?” he asks disconcerted.

 

“This fleecer is taking your magic! Are you alright, Papy?” He fusses over his husband.

 

“I feel perfectly fine, actually. Are you sure?”

 

“Yes I’m sure!” he pulls Frisk, chair and all, away from her.

 

“I’m won’t hurt your friends, sit, sit. I’ll explain.” she waves her sleeve-like hand at them amicably. Papyrus approaches, with his husband attached firmly to his arm. Mettaton frowns at Sans who’s been strangely quiet, urging him to do something.

 

“Calm down Mettaton, if she tries anything I’ll handle her. Lady, tell me if I got this right. You got a human soul and it lets you see things, or I guess, the future…but you gotta suck the life out of people for it to work?” he says looking at her skeptically.

 

“You make it sound so stupid, its magics!” she waves her tentacles dramatically. He just sits down next to her, while the other three keep a healthy distance. “Fine, you use power you need power. This human soul has special magic but it eats my magic, so I feed it so it won’t eat me ‘till I’m dead, got it?”

 

“Then how come…how come I don’t feel that way?” Frisk asks.

 

“You’re with monsters all the time so they feed you the magic; and probably ‘cause you don’t use the power. …Maybe once you will…but I don’t think you will again. One time is enough,yep, yep. Do you remember the sparkles with your friend?”she makes a vague gesture to her chest and talks in that odd way as if everyone knows what she means, it frustrates Sans and he growls impatiently.

 

“Sparkles?…I think I know what you mean, it’s the same feeling I had when-” Frisk starts.

 

“You met me and the hunter?” she finishes and they stare at her, until her words make sense. “That is how she finds you and now she has two souls…double sparkles!” she says cackling like mad.

 

Frisk walks over, pausing when Sans stands in their way. They take his hand and gently push past him, to hold hers. The sensation strikes them quick, recognition mixed with some sort of nostalgia, like the feeling of looking at your toys to realize you’ve outgrown them. They look at her and she smiles, softly now.

 

“You see?” she asks, Frisk nods, entranced. Ika channels her magic and opens her eye that glows startlingly blue. “She’s going to come looking for you, the hunter. You will run to the south to the safe place…When you get there look for a crying clown in the Mardi Gras parade…he has two souls too!” her eye flickers and fades, she slumps on the stool, seemingly unconscious. Frisk makes to catch her but Sans beats them to it, helping her float to a couch in the lounge.

 

“Sans.” they say in a low voice while Mettaton and Papyrus try to wake her,and get her to take small sips of juice. “I can feel her soul…it’s only when she’s close but I know what she means. It was the same with Bliz, I could tell where he was in the store without looking and…what she’s saying is that Dahlia can do it too. She’s going to keep chasing us an-”

 

“Don’t.” he puts his hand on their shoulder. “ We’re gonna keep you safe. Screw her, Paps will drag her ass to jail and you won’t have to worry ‘bout anythin…This lady though, we might have to take her in too.” they turn to him shocked. “No, not to jail, I mean to a safe house! We don’t want Dahlia to take…to hurt her.”

 

“You mean steal her powers.” Frisk clarifies, frowning.

 

“…That too, but you know what I mean. This lady is crazy, but harmless. Dahlia on the other hand…let’s just say she doesn’t need any more power.” he grumbles, they nod and lean on him a little. He pats their back while Ika finally awakes and spends her first conscious moments haggling with Mettaton.

 

“Cash! If you want reading you give cash, not credit! I’m not coming back here anyway and I don’t want autograph photo unless I’m in it!”

 

“Excuse me, lady, but I’m not entirely sure I’d pay hard cash for a fortune telling I can’t even understand!” says the robot, feeding her snacks while she lays on the couch and wiggles her arms at him childishly, still unable to sit up.

 

“Fine, then I don’t tell you what your babies look like!” She takes the plate from him, shoving food in her tiny mouth angrily.

 

“What babies?” he asks.

 

“Ghost skeleton babies, yah?”

“Wait, MY babies? Like, literally? You can see that far into the future?”

 

“It’s not that far, really” she mumbles around the food, the robot claps excitedly.

 

“Oh my! Lady, tell me where you want to go and I’ll get you an all expense paid trip, darling!”

 

“Get ‘em away from each other, n o w.” Sans growls to Papyrus, who shushes him and sits next to Mettaton to listen to her.

 

Sans walks with Frisk a little ways away before excusing himself. He shortcuts to the snacks table and brings back more sparkling juice and sugar spiderwebs.

 

“You alright?” he asks, they shrug and eat quietly for a bit.

 

“…I’m just kind of frustrated…Most of the things I remember are about the Underground and they’re not all that good. But this last year, I’ve made these new memories with you guys, really happy ones, and now…it’s like no matter where I go I always end up running! Why can’t it…just-?” they shake their head unable to put everything into words.

 

“It’s not yer fault.” he says, putting his arm around them and herding them to a chair. They don’t respond and he starts talking in hushed tones. “To be honest, with ya I don’t really know what to do when we’re not fighting.” they look up at him. He pulls a chair over with his magic, takes off his jacket, throws it over the back of it and sits across from them. “For like half of my life that’s all I did: fight and run. So, after a while anything else felt kinda weird… You’re not like that…Even when you were running you still found the space to be…kind. So trust me when I say I know it sucks, but yer not alone, kid. We’re not gonna let anything bad happen to ya.” he says. They stand up and throw their arms around him briefly.

 

“Thank you.” they say fervently, he nods, not sure what to say back but hugging them back anyway. They walk off and he turns back to get his jacket and hide a blush, before they join the others.

 

 

After Ika manages to bargain a plane ticket back to Wyoming from Mettaton and he gets some of his baby questions answered, they escort her away; one of the guards carrying her in his arms. The robot sends copies of the video and information to Alphys and Papyrus makes the necessary arrangements on his handlink. The atmosphere is tense and even though it’s still relatively early in the evening, Frisk feels it’s time to head back. 

 

The husbands do one last, rather spectacular dance for them and Frisk enjoys it before having one last dance themselves. Getting twirled around by Mettaton wasn’t the last highlight of their night, as they also got to see him make Sans incredibly awkward by giving him dancing lessons, first by himself and then with Frisk. Finally realizing the mood was probably not going to get any better, they have their last drinks and get ready to leave. On the helicopter ride back they stare at the city once more, slumping over to lean on Sans with tiredness.

 

“Do you think I’ll ever get to settle down?” they ask him quietly.

 

“Uh, probably, yeah…You’ll get another job, or go to college…we’ll find an apartment. It’s going to be cramped but real nice, you’ll even get yer own room an everythin’. We can invite Flowey over on vacation.” he grumbles comfortingly.

 

“We’re not going back to the apartment, are we?”

 

“We will, just…not right now.” he says, not sure whether or not it’s true. They don’t reply after that and he stares at the window, looking for the tell tale light to tell him they’re awake. He doesn’t see it, but knows that doesn’t really mean they’re asleep. He throws his arm around them, making both of them more comfortable and feels a small drop of their magic fall onto his hand. They cry silently and he holds them there without a word of his own until they make it back.

 

 

Getting out of fancy clothes is nearly as difficult as it was to get into them, and far less exciting. Mettaton and Papyrus excuse themselves early, probably still dealing with the aftermath of their unexpected visitor. Meanwhile, Sans is genuinely glad for their separate space today. He puts on some fantasy movies and washes up before bed, waiting for them, in case they want to talk. They get ready almost as quickly as him, sitting in the couch and drinking some tea. They stare at the screen and don’t say much but he can tell they are calmer now, and knowing that makes him calmer too. It’s not long before his head slumps over and he starts to snore softly.

 

“What do you mean she escaped, Miles?! HOW DOES A SICKLY OLD LADY ESCAPE FROM A SQUAD OF TRAINED GUARDS!?” Papyrus all but roars.

 

“SIR! She made us stop because she was going to puke in the car. We sent someone to the bathroom with her but she disappeared from the cubicle, we’re trying to figure out how could-”

 

“Miles.”

 

“Yes…sir?”

 

“Did you know that an octopus can fit through any space that’s smaller than its mouth?” he says slowly.

 

“N-no I didn’t, sir?” the guard stutters.

 

“Right. So, can you guess what happened, then?” Papyrus says, almost sweetly. The guard tries not to shake in front of his co-workers.

 

“She used the vents, sir! We’ll get right on that, sir! I’m sorry fo-”

 

“DON’T WASTE TIME APOLOGIZING THAT YOU COULD SPEND TRACKING! MOVE OUT, GUARD!”

 

“Sir, yes, sir!”

 

Papyrus rubbed the space between his eye sockets, calming the magic in them to a light flame. Mettaton walks in and he relates the incident to him. His husband listens attentively, leading him into the bed, luring him to lay down, laying at his side and running his fingers over his ribs soothingly.

 

“Al least we know where she’s going and who she is, her ID number was the real thing so we can track her…If she’s working with Dahlia we’ll at least be able to intercept her.” his husband says softly.

 

“I hope we can, love. It’s bothering me that it’s taken so long and I can’t help but feel that perhaps…the Guard has helped her in some way or maybe some of her old gang buddies are involved, and I-” the robot puts a finger over his mouth tutting softly, making him pause.

 

“You’ve done all you can for now, Papy. We’ll find them both, I promise you. No one is going to take our friend away. They have the world’s best Guard looking out for them after all…” he leans down and kisses him slowly until the tense rattle of his bones stops and the skeleton finally falls into an exhausted sleep.

 

“Good night, my love.” he kisses his forehead, before heading out to his charging station and spending the night digging through his old hard drives looking for anything on the human souls he might have missed.

 

 

The man Ika contacted didn’t care when the ticket was due, he exchanged it quickly and she took the first plane out of there. In her years she’d learned that the great thing about information is, that if used correctly, it’s the same if not better than currency. Ika hurries into the plane, hoping no one will be waiting for her in the airport once she arrives. Even if they are, she knows they won’t catch her. It’s already been decided for her where it is that she’ll end up. So she sleeps the entire way there, letting the magic that the other passengers exude soothe the aching hunger in her old soul.

 

 

Talking to Dahlia could sometimes be a delight on his senses and his mind: her creative use of language, her energetic nature and her infallible confidence. She always intrigued him, but lately Wallace felt more lost than fascinated. He could feel it in the piece of her he carried in his soul, something wasn’t quite right. He threw his arm around her, the purring radiating from her back and onto his chest. He held her so close but for the first time in years, he felt disconnected.

 

“Don’t you think it’s been long enough? Do you really want to live like this, running all the time?” he murmurs gently into the side of her head.

 

“When haven’t I been running, hun?…I can’t let ‘em catch me. Those skeleton brothas won’t lemme out alive.” she says, playing with his hand in hers.

 

“They can’t do anything to you; you need to go to trial first, it’s your right. Killing another monster in self-defense is not a crime, even more so when they were already a known criminal.”

 

“It is, when tha’ criminal is besties with Papyrus’ family.”

 

“Even more so, he’s a public figure…He can’t afford to be unfair when everyone’s watching everything he does…Please, Dal, trust me. I can find someone to defend you, I can advise you just-”

 

“You’re already doing that Wally…just lemme get sum rest ‘fore I gotta go, ‘kay?”

 

Wallace wanted to say more, but he knew she was a stubborn and could understand her fear. How could those marginalized trust the very system that ostracized them? He sighed, trying to relax into sleep but his mind kept racing nonetheless. It would be so much easier if she just gave herself up to the authorities; but she was always so much better than him at beguiling people in and out of conversation. 

 

No matter how many times he brought it up, she’d shut him out. It’s made all the more difficult because he knows better than anyone that the system he serves is flawed. But he’d also learned that justice is not always getting what you deserve, but making sure most people can have what they need.   
  


His hands go to his neck, the matching scar circumventing his soul throbs in recognition. If it hadn’t been for that flawed justice, he might have ended up just like his sister. He was unhappy when he lived with her but it never occurred to him how terrible the things she did to him were, that is until he found himself telling a courtroom full of strangers about it. He may have spent years going from foster home to foster home, but it was with that human woman that finally took him in that he’d found some kind of wellness, a sense of worth. 

 

It was his foster mother who made him realize that both human and monsterkind needed someone with the knowledge to defend them. Someone with the strength to do the right thing. More than anything that is why Wallace is certain he will use everything he knows to give his partner true justice. He knew that running away was been pointless from the start. In the end, no matter what either of them did, no matter where they went, they would always be seen as monsters to the rest of the world, in the most reviled definition of the very word.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well nothing happened in this chap, all filler, damn. I realized while I wrote this that I like developing my villains through the people around them as well as by themselves. I like showing how Dahlia is seen by Frisk and the people hunted by her, but also how the people that love her see her and how she sees herself. I never like antagonists or villains that are evil just because. I hoped you enjoyed this and that you read along for more drama and more action. Thanks for reading and see ya in the next chap!


	32. For all the times I never could

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Alphys learns about Flowey's past Sans stays true to his word by telling Frisk more about himself.

__

 

 

The employees finished their report, and she closed the meeting, barely capable of hiding her exhaustion. One of the researchers gave her some encouraging words before leaving the meeting room, she accepted them with a polite smile. Once they were all gone Alphys sighed heavily, it was the first time in years she’d underestimated a research project; then again it was also the first time she took on something like this. Monsters were yet to discover all the secrets of their own magic, lost to the post-war poverty and arson; they were even farther from understanding human magic.

 

“Are you alright, doc?” his head turns sideways into her periphery.

 

“I’m…tired, Flowey, but I’m okay.”

 

He nods at her words, he understands somewhat; after spending these last few months with her, he couldn’t help but to. “Let’s get out of here then, do you need any help?”

 

“That’s alright, come here, you.” Alphys tucks the folders under her arm and picks up his pot, putting it back on his drone. He slips his vines over the controls and scuttles on the wheeled device after her.

 

“I still don’t get it, why didn’t you just give me a flying one? I bet it would be awesome.” he says, circling her as she trudges tiredly down the halls of the facility offices.

 

“As awesome as that would be, I’m pretty sure the world’s not ready for a flying-talking flower. Besides, how else am I supposed to keep my snacks safe from you? Y-you’re better off grounded, mister.”

 

“Golly, that was awfully close to a pun, doctor. I don’t think you should be friends with Sans anymore, his corniness is rubbing off on you!”

 

Alphys laughs a little, leaning on the elevator wall; it’s nice to have it to themselves, then again no one but her research team has a reason to be here this late. She tries not to think too much about it, but it irks her. She foolishly assumed there would be more to go on, since humanity’s interest in rediscovering their own magical capability had increased from the time the barrier was unlocked. Yet even after fifty years of research, human magicians were nowhere near the power they had when they sealed the monsters away centuries ago. 

 

Plus trying to discern the facts interspersed amongst all the myth was proving harder than she’d expected. Their magic worked differently, so grounded into the physical, it made it difficult for a monster to wrap their head around it; even more so to find actual magicians. Though all humans have magic in their souls, few are able to use it, and even fewer understand it enough to fully explain it. To make matters worse, those that did have plenty of explanations were often very secretive and hard to find. Just seeing Dahlia’s face on the web every now and then made her anxious, she had little time to waste.

 

“You’re still thinking about it, aintcha? Let’s eat something and watch some more episodes of that anime you showed me, alright?” he says, slipping the files from her arms and wrapping his vines around them. 

 

She sighs again and smiles, letting him help her as she unlocks the door. Perhaps it was habit or some reptilian instinct to seek out underground spaces, but she always felt a little safer having her personal labs under the ground. Alphys lets him put her things away and takes a long warm shower. She gets in her pj’s and sets up the big screen, he sits with her, a vine occasionally slipping into her bento to sneak a piece of food. They watch a few episodes until she passes out. She startles awake and makes to get back up; but Flowey brings her a blanket and throws it over her, lowering the volume and settling into the couch himself. She has no way to argue with that.

 

The next day is a weekend and he forces her to take some time off by being as obnoxious as possible whenever she tries to work. They reach a middle ground with her agreeing to work on something slightly less stressful: his interviews. Since Flowey moved in she’s been gathering as much information as she can from his memories, not only to theorize about the human souls but also to understand him. Talking to her has helped him answer a lot of questions about himself; plus if it helps keep Frisk safe, he’ll do just about anything.

 

“Tell me more about Chara, you said they could do magic?”

 

“Yes. They were pretty good at it too…They had a way with plants, ironically. Mom and dad were very happy back then. They thought Chara’s magic would be good for the citizens and they were right. Chara helped us with crops and those things…medicine too. We wouldn’t have been able to build the Capital without them.” he says fondly.

 

“Did they have any other powers?” she says, taking some notes, but mostly letting her handlink record the conversation.

 

“You mean if they could turn back time like Frisk?”

 

“P-pretty much, yes. I want to know if the powers are related to soul traits…So, did they?”

 

“Not that I know of…Chara liked using magic, it was a part of them, but they never did ‘big magic’ as they called it. No one ever really knew what they were capable of, but I can tell you they were strong…Frisk on the other hand didn’t know how their magic worked. I probably knew how to use it better than they did.”

 

His face darkens with a memory. “The first time… I used their soul it was an accident, I was trying to put it back in their body. It worked sort of, but then we went back. After the first few times neither of us control it, instead they would just…wake up a couple of hours into the past whenever they died. No one remembered it but me, I figured it was because my soul’s different. I’m sure Sans remembers too, but I don’t know what’s that about.” he grumbles, eyes still distant.

 

“I think I might…he um, reacts differently to magic.”

 

“And why is that, doc?”

 

“It’s…that’s not for me to say, but I’m quite sure that’s the reason he remembers. You mentioned that Chara’s power was also linked to the flowers?” she says refocusing his attention.

 

“I don’t really know if it was, but every time Frisk died more of those flowers would grow on them.” he stares at her, her face is twisted in thought.

 

“But that doesn’t make sense…unless…wait just a minute.” she taps her tablet rapidly and in a few minutes a drone flies in. The machine is carrying a small pot brimming with yellow flowers. “Flowey, are these flowers the same as the ones on Chara’s grave?” she asks, placing it on the table.

 

“Yup…they look the same, at least.” he nods.

 

“I took these from Frisk. The first time I took a sample of them I preserved it, so it died after a while. But the last time I saw them I um, decided to plant some of these to see what would happen.”

 

“Okay? So, you have a pot full of flowers, great. They can be a part time florist. Did you find anything else?” he says, tensely.

 

“I did. T-these plants are indigenous to certain parts of the ruins…mostly the few areas with sunlight but there’s something special they have in common with Underground plant life. L-like the echo flowers they um…” he waves a leaf at her to prompt her. “ They also, need magic to live.”

 

“What do you mean? Do they suck the magic from you? We have to tell Frisk!” he makes to get his handlink but she stops him.

 

“No, well, I mean yes, they do but you don’t need to call Frisk. They…seem to be just fine, the flowers are not affecting them.”

 

“How can you tell? What if they’re just killing Frisk slowly? You’re a doctor, get doctoring and take those things off of them!”

 

“Calm down, Flowey. I gave them a check up, the flowers are not… ‘sucking’ the magic out them, they’re fine! These flowers just absorb magic from the environment, like sunlight or water. When Frisk uses magic the flowers react because they’re taking in the excess, not because they’re sucking it out…Which is why t-there’s something else I need to ask.” she says resolutely.

 

“You better be sure or I swear…” he frowns at her seriously, waiting for her to continue.

 

“Did Chara ever use their magic on these?”

 

“…No, I don’t think so. Those flowers were always in the ruins, like you said, just where the sunlight would get to them. Chara…really liked them, said they reminded them of the surface. But they didn’t use magic on them…they didn’t need to.”

 

“Why not? What were these used for back then?”

 

“I mean they didn’t need to use magic to do what they did. Those things are poison and they…Chara did…” he wilts, turning away from her.

 

“Flowey…I’m sorry I have to ask so much, but I need to know what happened. I need t-to understand if there’s any relationship between these flowers and the power of the hum-”

 

“They made those things into a tea and drank it! They killed themselves, ok?!” he stares at her, eyes glowing red and a set of sharp teeth threatening to tear open his mouth. She steels herself and doesn’t flinch, despite her nerves.

 

“I’m really, really sorry, Flowey…I didn’t know.” she approaches him warily and though he hisses at her at first, he slumps when she lays her hand on his head, crying to himself. It’s a long time before he speaks again.

 

“Will this help Frisk?…If I tell you everything I know, can you help them?” he looks up at her, his face half that of a flower and half of the old prince. She nods with certainty and he sighs.

 

“Alright then. You better sit down, doctor…I’m going to tell you a story.”

 

Sans pants heavily, hands on his knees. He shouldn’t be out of breath, he doesn’t even have lungs for god’s sake! But he’s so worn out he’s sweating and panting nonetheless, magic be damned! No, sparring be damned! Why did he agree to this in the first place? He hears them laugh and turns his head to the side, they are panting too but not as badly. That’s right, he’s going through this crap so he can protect them. He pulls himself up and without a moment to spare he teleports behind them.

 

Frisk startles, blocking him almost immediately; he doesn’t have time to jump out of the way and one of their bone attacks smacks him on the knee. They dash away, already faster than he’ll ever be on their feet, turning at the sound and releasing their magic.

 

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I didn’t mean t-” he disappears and they feel his arms suddenly wrapping around them from behind.

 

“Didn’t you hear what Antoine said about dropping your guard, kid?” he says close to their skull.

 

“Of course I did and I never do.” they respond laughing. Sans has but a second to turn to look at the smile they throw him over their shoulder before one of their bones slides like a bar behind his knees and knocks him on his back. Frisk rolls off over his head, getting on their feet before they sit down with a laugh.

 

“Let me guess, you’re doing your regular gravity check, right?” Says Antoine walking out of the house to stare down at him and offer him a hand.

 

“Me? Nah, the floor was lonely so I gave it a hug.” he says, taking their hand and winking at Frisk who snickers.

 

They go back into the house to shower and get some lunch. After they eat Sans helps them sign up for some online courses as Mettaton had suggested. Frisk would be taking just the basics like history, humanities, english, science and math; though they’re not exactly sure how much they have to catch up on in order to apply for an university, without much else to do this seems like a good time to start. After all the tedious initial tests and paperwork are done, they take a break. It will be a few days before they can start the courses but they’re excited and he’s happy for them.

 

This is one of the few weekends where the four of them will be in the house at once, so of course Mettaton made it into an event. Without needing the usual amount of prodding, Sans gets himself ready for another movie night. This time he makes a point to sit at the other end of the couch, leaving Mettaton to fawn over Papyrus, instead of peppering him with the I-told-you-so’s the robot keeps tossing his way since the dinner at the hotel. Wasn’t taking his advice the same as admitting he was right? He was just rubbing it in now. 

 

Sans didn’t have the patience for his brother-in-law’s crap, instead his mind kept revisiting the fact they hadn’t found Ika or Dahlia yet. Looking around he could see that he wasn’t the only one with that worry but, for now at least, everyone was doing their best to put it aside. He glanced at Frisk, sitting next to him with a bowl full of chips and a smile on their face; and quite honestly nothing else mattered right now.

 

“Don’t say anything, I don’t want them to think it bothers me.” they say after the first few hours.

 

“Well, it’s botherin’ me and he knows it. He’s doing that crap on purpose.” Sans growls, peering over Frisk’s shoulder at the unsightly display. Mettaton is sitting on Papyrus’ lap, giggling in a low voice about who-knows-what, Sans shakes his head.   
  


“Maybe, or maybe it’s because they haven’t seen each other in a while.” they say, hiding a laugh and turning up the volume.

 

“Don’t! You’ll encourage them…dammit.”

 

A few uncomfortably loud kisses later the pair excuse themselves and Sans practically slumps in relief. At least they’re going off to their own bedroom, far, far away from the living room. Frisk moves over to take up more space in the couch and he does the same; genuinely enjoying the anime series, even if it’s like the fifth time he’s seen it since it came out.

 

“He reminds me of you, Ed does.” they say, as the episode ends. It was a heavy one this time around, since it’s one of the few, if not the only time the main characters have a big falling out.

 

“Edward? Why, ‘cause we’re both short?” he scoffs, they shake their head.

 

“Because of how much he loves his brother. How much they love each other, I mean.” they fidget.

 

“Hmm, what else?” they turn to him surprised. It’s become easier for him to read them lately. “What else you got in mind?” he asks, still relaxed.

 

“You both…hide things from the people you care about, because you don’t want them to have to carry your burden…But you don’t realize that everyone wants to carry it with you. You’re both really stubborn too.” Frisk says, looking at his eyes sincerely, he looks away after a bit. When had he become that easy to read?

 

“Damn…Good observation, kid.”

 

The silence stretches and they postpone the conversation in favor of another episode. He relaxes after that, either because he’s too tired or because the story just took his mind off it for a moment. He edges closer to share the remaining snacks, too lazy to get up for more.

 

“Are you upset…because of what I said?” they ask.

 

“Nah, I’m fine….Yer right, even I can admit that. Guess I needed a sec, ‘cause it reminded me of some stuff, that’s all.” he says, smiling a little, they nod and eat in silence. “Do you wanna hear it?” he offers, embarrassed by the stunned look they give him.

 

“It uh, the things you said and watching this, reminded me of this one time Paps and I argued. I mean we argued a lot when we were brats but I mean like an actual fight. We…did a lot of things we ended up regretting later.” he traces the scar over his mouth thoughtfully and they stare attentively for a moment before they rein in their curiosity.

 

“You don’t have to talk abo-”

 

“I wanna. If you wanna hear ‘bout it.” he says eyeing them.

 

“Yes, I do.” Frisk says, switching the handlink from the anime into playing some soothing, barely audible music. They turn to Sans, putting a hand over his; somehow the gesture makes it less terrible when the scar on his soul throbs with the memory.

 

Sans tied off the bandage around his brother’s eye, carefully and carried Papyrus upstairs. He couldn’t blame him, they both felt afraid and horribly sad after their father had ‘fallen’, or so they said, into The Core. It was understandable his little brother would lash out, but this? This was the last straw.

 

Papyrus thought he didn’t know about the human he’d secretly befriended, but you could hide very little from a sibling that could cut into the fabric of space. What he really didn’t know is why the human suddenly changed their mind and ran away. Papyrus didn’t want them to leave, didn’t think it was safe, they argued and the human fought him off to escape. Grillby had found his little brother, on the way back to Snowdin in that foggy path, unconscious under a pile of snow. For once Sans was glad the Royal Guard kept watch for humans, he hoped they found that little bastard and made them pay. If it weren’t for the fact Paps was healing still, he’d hunt them down and hand them in himself.

 

In a matter of days Papyrus’ skull had almost healed, but just like he expected, the betrayal as well as the wound had Scarred his brother. Papyrus was terribly bitter, his damaged eye shining a lighter shade of orange as it flamed alongside the other. Sans ignored his brother’s argument, he’d heard it all before and by now was getting sick of it. Apparently so was Papyrus because the both of them had been squaring off in front of the doorway for almost an hour now.

 

“Why do you keep doing this? Why do I have to let them go, after everything they’ve done? It isn’t fair!” the tears were audible in his voice, even if the orange in his eye sockets hadn’t spilled over yet.

 

“ ‘Cause it’s the right thing to do Paps.” he sighs, and despite his own anger he knows it’s true. “We can’t judge ‘em. What they did was messed up, but they’re running for their life and…who can blame ‘em for that?”

 

“Why are you taking their side? You’re my brother!” he wailed, tears starting again as he pushed Sans away. Sans pressed forward, ignoring the scrape of his brother’s claws against his sternum and reaching up to put his hands on his shoulders. Papyrus was already so much taller than him.

 

“It’s cause I’m on your side that I gotta tell ya the truth. Killing ‘em won’t fix anythin’. Let the guards take care of it, baby bro.”

 

“Stop it! I don’t want you to baby me Sans…I-I AM NOT A KID ANYMORE!”

 

“I know yer not a kid but…yer my brother, Paps. I wanna look out for you.” he presses on until he wraps his arms around the younger skeleton, who rattles angrily. “You don’t gotta get back at them, I know you can do better than that…You’re the Great Papyrus, after all!” he tries not to be angry himself, though his heart is shaken up. The human would die either way, whether or not the friendship they shared with Papyrus had been genuine, didn’t matter at this point.

 

“Stop it, why do you keep saying that?!”

 

“ ‘Cause I love you, bro…I want you to be happy.” he replied, as if that explained everything.

 

It didn’t.

 

Papyrus’ immature magic crackled between them, zapping his bones like static.

 

“I don’t want you to love me… I want you to HELP ME!”

 

His magic surged forward, from the floor up, putting space between them. Sans’ eye flashed electric blue but he did nothing to stop the attack, as sharp bones erupted from the ground. He dodged back, lifting his arm to cover his face but a razor shard slipped between the bones of his arm, slashing him across the face. Papyrus quickly dispelled the attack, but ashes were already streaming from his face; a deep gash running from his jaw, all the way up to the side of his nasal cavity. Sans covered his mouth with a groan; nudging a tooth, that fell off and turned to dust in his hand. He closed his mouth shakily, the lights dying in his downcast eyes.

 

“…Then I’ll do what I can to…help you…no matter what.” he whispered, with nothing else, he turned and walked away.

 

“No! Sans! I’M SORRY, SANS!…Sans?”

 

But there was nothing there but a tiny pile of ashes that was quickly blown away.

 

That night, while Papyrus was alone in the house one of the gangs from the caves broke in. News of the Royal Scientist’s death had traveled fast, it seemed; they’d come to loot whatever had been left behind. Papyrus couldn’t put up much of a fight. What good was a skinny monster, barely out of his striped shirts against a group of street urchins with filed fangs and claws? They took everything and if that weren’t enough they lit the curtains on fire, which spread too easily over the wooden walls of the tiny house. Papyrus tried flinging snow through the windows with magic but it didn’t do much. He rushed in for what little possessions he could salvage before the whole thing caught on fire. Sans came back as the roof started collapsing. He was beside himself and he made sure those monsters knew it, as he hunted them down and finally put those damned blasters to their first good use.

 

Soon after an opposing gang approached him in gratitude, because of him they were able to recover their turf. Instead of being scared of Sans, they admired him and were more than happy to let him lash out and fight, so long as it favored them. More importantly they were willing to help him provide for Papyrus. The fear they instilled would protect his little brother, where he could not. He quit his job at the lab and they took him in. His brother barely spoke to him after the fight, got more and more caught up in training with the other recruits for the Guard. Papyrus was deeply ashamed when he realized what was becoming on his brother.

 

It didn’t happen in just one day, it took years, but eventually they both changed. Their souls scarred by loss and betrayal, blue bruised into red, orange faded into rust. Sans did what he had to do, to provide for himself and his brother; at first he tried not to kill, but overtime he realized it was easier. Sheer stubbornness and unadmitted fear had watered down his integrity. Right and wrong didn’t really mean anything down here.

 

When the old gang leader was killed Sans stepped up, he changed things for the better. The rest of the gang had made him a gold tooth as a show of gratitude, a sign of their debts to him. With him leading them they instilled a lot more fear, but killed a lot less monsterfolk because of it. A ruse, a premise of fairness as false as his tooth. He kept his act going, doing the same things for quite a few years, it was easier to keep going and he couldn’t help it, none of them could. Even after he quit the gang to support his brother’s acceptance into the Royal Guard it made no difference. Working as a sentry was almost the same as being in a gang, just much less crowded and not nearly as well paid. Their world kept getting darker and rougher, even those who upheld the remainders of the law knew it to be true. In their own way the brothers helped each other, in their own way they survived, but it would be many years until Sans and Papyrus actually found any semblance of peace.

 

“A scar…in your soul…That sounds like the most painful thing in the world. I’m sorry.” Frisk says, pulling him into a hug he accepts readily this time.

 

“Thanks…for hearing me out.” he grumbles, copying their habit of doing the same after these conversations.

 

They pull away after a while and close their eye; flower glowing slightly as they place a hand on his chest. It’s been awhile since they’ve stared at his soul so closely, fighting is always a blur and there isn’t space to pay any attention. But here, in this calm and quiet, he knows they can see him clearly and it makes him squirm. The light in his soul ebbs, the red in it has turned an almost bruised color. Whatever Mettaton had said in passing was true, Sans’ soul had a hint of blue in it, dead center. On the upper side, close to the peak of the inverted heart was a mark, like a tiny wreath of thorns it circled the soul with its thin cracks. It was completely healed though, and the light of his magic shone through clearly. Beneath it another scar cut across the length of it, transparent, but wider than the other one. It looked like a fleshy gash rather than cracks, like a knife wound.

 

The thought made them shiver.

 

“Why is there…two of them?”

 

“Ya know that’s really rude right? You’re literally staring into my soul. ‘Least take me to dinner first.”

 

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it!” they scramble to back off but he holds their hands and keeps them where they are.

 

“Nevermind, I guess you already did take me out… Relax, kid. Just saying, don’t do that to anyone else without permission.”

 

“I thought you did the same thing though.” they say reproachfully.

 

“Heh, sometimes, when I don’t trust someone I take a peek. But it’s better if you don’t, trust me.”

 

“I can’t help it sometimes, it’s not like I can turn it off, you know?” they admit.

 

“Huh…I thought I showed ya how.” he grumbles.

 

“You did but, it doesn’t completely go away. Just sort of fades out so it doesn’t bother me. But as soon as I close the other eye I can see it.”

 

“ ‘Cause you’re always using it, here. What you gotta do-”

 

“Oh no, not another one of your ‘classes’.” they say tiredly. He pokes their ribs and they laugh, listening attentively as he stumbles through his explanations. They try it a few times and either it works or they’re so tired their eyes are barely working anyway. The two of them talk until Sans knocks out and they wake him up to head to off bed.

 

“I got the other one when…I lost you.” he says as they stand in the hallway, about to part ways.

 

“What?”

 

“The scar.” he traces an angled line over his sternum in the shape of it, their eye socket widens. The scar was huge, even if it was faded it still ran deep.

 

“I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry…I’m sorry I hurt you.” they say frowning as if it hurts them too.

 

“It’s not yer fault. ‘Sides, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” his throws them a lazy, but genuine smile. They hesitate but smile back, then say goodnight and head off. He stares at their door for while before heading to bed himself. Just this once, Sans is actually glad to share his thoughts with someone, he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but for the first time in a while he feels kind of hopeful.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late updates, I'm working on moving to a new place and it's been a little crazy. I hope you enjoyed this one, lotsa exposition but also some good fluff. Maybe what I call fluff is just serious conversation, but maybe it's because I think its one thing that usually gets overlooked, that doesn't have to be completely unpleasant and whose importance in relationships is definitely overrated. No more nagging, just hope you liked it, if you have any feedback, suggestions or questions leave me a comment or send me a message; with that said, see ya in the next one! 
> 
> ╰(・∇・╰)


	33. And if it's true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowey finishes telling his story to Alphys, while Frisk and Sans spend time together in Papyrus' house.

 

 

The next morning Frisk and Sans are having breakfast, talking idly. They’re taking their time since Antoine is still doing rounds and they’ll be sparring on their own until he finishes. Sans’ newfound openness made them want to know more, since all this time talking about himself had been an unspoken out of bounds. Instead of being put off by the things he’d shared, they find some admiration within their initial shock. Knowing he’d pulled himself back from such a dark place had earned their respect. Though his father’s death had changed him for the worst, time had made him better in every sense of the word. It’s also while hearing about these things that they begin to understand why he is so secretive.

 

“It’s not that I don’t understand why, more like it’s really different from how I go about things.” they say thoughtfully.

 

“How’s it different?”

 

“Because I just tell you everything! I can’t remember having to lie to you guys for a long time. I guess, because there’s not that much to hide. After I told everyone about my memories, that was pretty much all of it.”

 

“You do tell everyone everything, huh? Guess, that explains how Paps found my trash tornado.” he says trying to lighten the tone.

 

“I guess so.” Frisk gives him a brilliant smile, full of amusement and all he can do is stare. “ Not everything everything! But, you know, talking about my memories and stuff, it helps me figure it out.”

 

“Yeah, it does.” he manages. “I’m actually glad you’re telling me these things. It makes me feel like I’m really getting to know you now.” They get up and start picking up the plates, he goes out after them.

 

“Did ya feel like you didn’t know me before?”

 

“Not really, but I could always tell you were hiding things from me. I didn’t want to push it…since you’ve been taking care of me this whole time; but it did bother me. ” they say as they pile the dishes in the sink, their nonchalance giving him space to dodge the subject. He doesn’t.

 

“Why’d it bother you?”

 

“Well, because, I don’t like seeing you upset…and I wanted you to trust me more.”

 

“If I said ‘you should’ve told me’ I’m going to sound like a hypocrite aren’t I?” he grumbles.

 

“A little bit, but I get it, sort of. Those things weren’t easy to say.” they start washing the dishes and he steps beside them to help. “I think you hid those things because you’re ashamed, and I’m…glad you are; because it means you regret it. I don’t think I would’ve been scared if you’d told me sooner, because I already knew you’re not the same as you were w-when you did those things.” they finish awkwardly.

 

He’s frowning at them slightly, his eyes are bright and intense as they stare into Frisk’s nervously. He looks away, but his hand finds theirs under the water, squeezing it tight. 

 

“Thanks.” he murmurs, stealing nervous glances at their face.

 

“You’re welcome.” they say simply, squeezing his hand back.

 

 

Putting his reservations aside for a moment, Flowey tells Alphys about Asriel and Chara, the years they spent together and their promise to be in the surface once more. Chara desired to be free more than anything. The reason they were in the Underground was because magicians didn’t have the freedom to exist in the surface in the first place and yet they dreamed of returning to it. Not having much memory of his life on the surface, Asriel didn’t miss it the same way Chara did; but he definitely wished for their happiness just as fiercely. With time their family agreed to use Chara’s soul to open the barrier, when their time came; but Chara had thought of a different way. 

 

They all knew human souls could pass through the barrier, so it was possible that if a strong monster absorbed one, they too could slip through. Once there, they would gather the other six and return to free everyone. Asriel wasn’t as comfortable with discussing their death, but eventually he agreed. Years passed and though he stayed mostly the same, Chara didn’t; they were aging and leaving him behind. He accepted that when Chara’s time came he would take not only their soul, but their body to bury in the surface. He just never imagined that time would come so soon.   


 

“The humans thought I killed them. They attacked us and I couldn’t even…I wouldn’t fight back. Even though I promised Chara I would, I’d never killed anyone before so I just ran back home. But it was too late, we were already dying. I Fell with them on the flowers and I didn’t wake up until much, much later.” he says to Alphys in a faraway voice.

 

“When I first woke up I wasn’t really sure what I was doing, I wasn’t even sure about who I was. Then I met this monster; a skeleton, with holes in his hands. He told me stories about the things that happened out of that lab, explained who I was supposed to be and he was nice to me, except for the fact he kept me locked up…Then one day, he left my container open. I escaped and he went missing not even a few days after that.” there is a look of surprise in her face and he waits for her to ask more, but she shakes her head and gestures him to go on.

 

“Once I made it out I saw things had changed since I was Asriel. I saw it all; everything that bag of bones had worked so hard to hide from me. I learned that in this new world…it was kill or be killed. So that’s what I did. I wasn’t strong enough to fight anyone myself, but with my words I could make them fight each other. I grew stronger over the years but I needed more, I needed to be strong enough to break the barrier. I knew the king had found some of the human souls…so I stole them.”

 

“I-I saw you…i-in the cameras. You turned everything upside down f-for everyone just when we thought we were so close. When we lost the souls the King made me into the Royal Scientist to find a way to break the barrier without them…” she falls silent, thinking of how their actions had changed them, Mettaton, Flowey and Undyne. This subject was still sore for both of them.

 

“I know…golly, guess you shouldn’t have left them all in one place, eh?” he catches himself before he takes his frustration out on her, sighing warily. “ It wasn’t your fault, Alphys… I was trash back then and I’m sorry.”

 

“I-it doesn’t matter anymore, we can’t change what happened…but you’re fixing it now, so it’s-it’s fine. Keep telling me, please.” she gives him a small sympathetic smile, he returns it.

 

“Okay, where was I? Oh right; since I didn’t really have a soul of my own I borrowed some of the powers from the humans’. I couldn’t absorb them, and I…couldn’t feel anything from them because my soul was…incomplete, an imitation. Back then, all I could feel was the urge to stay alive and be stronger. Strong enough to break the barrier and leave everything behind… Then I met Frisk…” He smiles a little and leans into her, she pets him comfortingly until he finds it in himself to finish it.

 

“ I thought Frisk was just another human. It’d been so many years since I started that game with everyone and I was tired. But I played my old victim card to get closer, thinking that when they died I would take their soul. But… I started caring for them. Maybe at first it was because they reminded me of Chara, but then I got to know them and with how they treated me… I couldn’t do it. When they died that first time, all I remember is wishing they would stay. Next thing I know we’re a few hours back. It was a neat trick at first, but it got out of hand. Near the end I couldn’t even control it even if…I wanted to stop it but it wasn’t me anymore, I…”

 

She turns off the recorder and lets him cry into her lap, holding him until the shaking subsides. There’s so many things she wants to ask but this is not the time. Now that she’s heard his story she knows what she has to do. Whether he’s ready to give it or not, they’re going to need Sans’ help.

 

 

 

“I’m not”

 

“Ya sure about that?” Sans quirks a brow bone at them and smirks.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” they shrug, ignoring him in favor of their video game, a little too purposefully. He chuckles mischievously, edging closer and closer; they don’t even move away as he puts his hand on the arm of the couch, cornering them. That is until his claws start twitching over the side of their ribs. Frisk all but bolts over the side of the couch, he gets up after them with a wicked grin.

 

“Sans…no.” Frisk seems on the verge of laughter.

 

“Sans yes.”

 

And so it begins.

 

They run out and he runs after them, teleporting into their way at every chance. He’s at the end of the hall leaning on his arm casually; he’s toasting at them with ketchup at dining table; he’s laying across the gap between the living room and the entrance in his best ‘french girl’ pose. He keeps doing this to block them, trying to tickle them every chance he gets. They’re so good at dodging that even then, he can’t really catch them; but they laugh every time he reaches for them as if tickled by the thought as well as by his hands. He wiggles his fingers at them as he finally corners them, they’re giggling, but their eyes are still looking for a way out.

 

“Gotcha.” is all he says before tickling them until they nearly cry with laughter, writhing on the floor. Then he feels it, their hand that was pushing his arm away slips under it, clattering against the underside of his arm socket. He recoils involuntarily and their eye glints predatorily at him.

 

“S-Sans…” they start voice becoming steadier; he doesn’t like this.

 

“Yeah, kid?”

 

“Are all skeletons ticklish?” they ask, one of his hands still trapped in theirs. 

 

When he opens his mouth to answer all that comes out is a surprised yelp. Time to go. He lets go and shortcuts away. They find him in under a minute, he keeps teleporting away until he gets tired. Frisk however is used to running around and hasn’t even broken a sweat by the time they catch up with him. How the mighty have fallen, he thinks as he scrambles away from them. Maybe letting them spend so much time rough housing with the guards was not such a great idea, he realizes, as they all but tackle him. They weren’t too shy to wrestle him into the floor, that’s for sure. Sans can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his voice faded, he was sweating and panting. Though he didn’t need to breathe, that’s just how his body tried to hold onto his magic when it was spent too fast, and boy was he spent.

 

He was teary, cheeks and ribs aching, when the door to the common room slid open. Papyrus’ dress shoes clacked on the floor.

 

“P-Paps!…Help meee!” he reached for his brother dramatically, Frisk’s laugh was cut off suddenly.

 

He rolled to his side to see his brother’s impeccable shoes next to him, when he looked up his smile slid off his face. Papyrus’ face was blotchy and scuffed, his uniform shirt soaked and torn in places. The two of them got to their feet immediately.

 

“What happened, bro?” he growled, the need to defend his brother burning in his ribs.

 

“Are you okay?” Frisk asked calmer, but just as serious.

 

“I am quite alright, it’s nothing to worry about. I assure you it’s nothing the Great Papyrus can’t handle! Frisk, may I have a word with you?” He walks past Sans and puts a hand on their shoulder. They nod and follow him a little ways away. Sans tries to follow but his brother keeps him out of hearing range.

 

He watches Papyrus talking to them in a low voice, his gestures placating. Frisk goes from attentive to concerned, then they hang their head; nodding as the taller skeleton places a hand on their shoulder. He leans down, talking to them at face level and when they look back up at him there is a determined tension to their stance. They listen to him until he is done and he pulls them into a firm embrace they accept readily, before walking back into the bedrooms.

 

“What’s that about? What’d you tell ‘em?” Sans asks.

 

Papyrus looks at him with a hard expression and sad eyes. “Alphys’ team tried to interview Mrs.Dedino; you know how the residents of the slums are. She wouldn’t share any information with anyone; so I went there myself and told her what happened.” the warden sounds exhausted.

 

“The whole thing?” he asks, Papyrus nods.

 

“I believe it was necessary. She…didn’t take it well.” he glances down at his ruined shirt. “Regardless, she agreed to help after she calmed down. She’s under the Guard’s witness protection now.” He takes off his tie and begins to unbutton his shirt.

 

“Did you get anything else from her?”

 

“We solved the case, that’s for sure; we’re going to keep it under wraps though. It’s nobody’s business who he was, just that he’s no longer a threat. Asgore ordered us to focus everyone’s attention on Dahlia. I guarantee I’m trying my best to make this work, we will capture her.” Papyrus sounds optimistic as always, but very tired and his older brother pats his arm comfortingly before going after Frisk.

 

“Sans.” the shorter skeleton pauses. “Give them some space; they need that too.”

 

Sans nods grimly and heads into the kitchen instead. He gets his hands and his mind busy on baking an elaborate rainbow quiche, just the way they like it. While that’s in the oven he makes some sea salt icecream. The music in their room still plays by the time he’s done so he cleans up the game room, cleans the living room; makes some mochi and punches the hell out of it while kneading. He’s putting the ice cream inside the dough by the time the door cracks open.

 

He tries to drop what he’s doing but the damn dough is stuck to his hand. He makes to shortcut to the hallway but they’re already downstairs. Frisk walks up to him and he looks up, searching their expression. Their eye looks duller, but there’s still light inside and they give him a half-smile, taking in the mess of flour and ice cream.

 

“Thanks for cooking.” they say, voice a little rough.

 

“Yer welcome.” he says over the urge to ask.

 

They flour-up their bones in the bowl and take the unfinished dessert from his hands. They work together through the rest of them in silence. When he starts washing his hands in the sink he feels them edge closer behind him. Frisk wraps their arms around him, hands still covered in flour avoiding his shirt. Neither of them says anything and by the time they settle down to eat, they seem calmer. He knows they’re still hurting, they might never stop hurting over it; but they are strong. He can see that now, and he believes they’ll be alright. When they hug him again, he’s realizes the gesture doesn’t surprise him anymore and holds them back tightly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy pride day to everyone in the LGTBQ community! I'm very happy to say I was able to be at the NYC Pride parade and I hope that everyone who supports equality can have the chance to be in a similar experience. It was a very friendly and nice environment this afternoon and I'm glad I was able to be there. That said, thank you for reading, I hope this story can in someway help people understand a healthier way to love and to be in love. Much love to you reading this and I hope to see you on the next one!
> 
> (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤


	34. Scars keep stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undyne receives an unexpected call...and so does Frisk.

 

 

Papyrus walks out of the shower, too eager to make sure he can prevent this disaster to wait. It’s always better to just keep those you can trust close-by, instead of waiting around for the inevitable catastrophe to start. The situation they were may not be life and death just yet, but he feels it might soon be. The phone rings until it goes to message, his irritation keeps mounting as it happens again and again. By the time she finally answers he’s fuming.

 

“Hey, cool dude, I just got back home an-”

 

“PICK UP YOUR PHONE WHEN I CALL YOU! What is even so important that I have to call you more than five times before you pick up?!”

 

“I was unpacking man, I just got here.” she says a bit cowed.

 

Noticing her old insecurity resurface he softens his tone. “I understand perfectly well, but keeping your device charged and ready to receive calls from your fellow ex-Royal Guards is common etiquette! I didn’t call to berate you, though. I am in need of your assistance, my friend.” he says starting to get dressed.

 

Undyne goes right back to her gruff tone, glossing over his slip up.   
“Sure Paps, tell me what you need.”

 

“Wonderful, I knew I could count on you! Me and some of the other monsters from the Old Underground are dealing with a matter of the utmost importance. Some of us will be traveling abroad and need the protection only a great warrior such as yourself can offer. In short, I need to you to guard Alphys.”

 

“No way.” She didn’t even consider it this time, rude. Had something changed in the time since they last spoke?

 

“Why not? You didn’t even hear the whole story behind it!” “Doesn’t matter, I can’t do that. Unless it’s something life or death I can’t just-”

 

“IT IS LIFE OR DEATH!” he shouts dramatically.

 

“Papyrus….YOU TREAT EVERYTHING LIKE IT’S LIFE OR DEATH! Last time you called me for something life and death I ended up taking salsa lessons!” she shouts back.

 

He sighs before explaining everything to her. At this point in her research Alphys will have to start traveling to some of the areas where the human magicians are and maybe to the sites where the anomalies were identified. The inevitable meeting with the king will determine how soon, but the fact remains, the doctor will need the protection of someone capable and trustworthy. He can hear the strain in her voice, her worry, but she still refuses. Nevertheless he can’t readily take no for an answer, not this time.

 

“You don’t understand, Papyrus! This isn’t about me. I want her to be safe, okay? But she won’t be if she’s with me…”

 

“Are you talking about that thing with the magazines? They don’t care anymore and neither should Alphys!”

 

“Don’t even get me started on that, but that’s not it. I can’t guard her ‘cause…we Scarred each other…She won’t even see me through the phone anymore.” she grumbles, hearing him gasp on the other side.

 

“How can that be? I know you had a break up but I thought you’d both made it healthily into the friend zone… Please, tell me what happened.” he asked earnestly.

 

No sooner he finishes his words, he video calls her, a hologram of his concerned face projected before her. She turns it off on her end and just talks to him, imagining he’s here. He doesn’t mind, staring intently at the camera as she relives that moment, just as much for his sake as for her own.

 

 

 

Training where Waterfall and Hotland meet hadn’t just been a clever choice; as the dry heat, an abundance in boulders and nearby water made it a useful training ground. It was also a desperate choice, since there was no where else she could go where she wouldn’t be challenged or humiliated. That upstart, Papyrus, had been her underling for many years in the academy, where she was the captain of her unit, always top of her class.Then something changed.

 

The king had recruited him for a special unit, one that not even her, as captain of the Royal Guard, had access to. The smug bastard was given that obnoxious robot celebrity as a partner, for reasons she couldn’t fathom. Said robot went from beloved to despised, as it became obvious he was now only spreading government propaganda. The laws became more extreme, more punitive and she no longer felt the same loyalty to them.

 

Nevertheless she had always considered herself a proud warrior, fighting what she was best at. Her physical and magical strength were unmatched by anyone but the royal family. Until the day Papyrus bested her in a duel. Using subtlety, trickery and speed instead of strength, dragging the fight on instead of finishing it off on the first attacks, switching between offense and defense seemingly at random. She had no way of knowing what he would do. He humiliated her in front of the other Guards, but worst of all in front of the king. Undyne lost her title that day, and with it her pride.

 

However she had not lost her will to fight; which is why she was here training in the first place. Since she was demoted, Papyrus’ ideas were used to restructure the Royal Guard training, making it mandatory for all guards to be capable of physical and magical combat simultaneously. This manner of fighting for long periods of time was something they hadn’t practiced since the war with humans, centuries ago. Undyne had trained her whole life as a hunter, to collect human souls. As such her skill was in tracking and her attacks were designed for the takedown that guaranteed the capture. She was the warrior they’d needed at the time, but clearly not the warrior they wanted.

 

Geryon and Asgore had trained her, she’d trained Papyrus likewise. He entered the Guard with foolish ideas about saving monsters, about being some sort of hero. The kind of person that could help others just by being there. She had tried to beat those ideas out of him and thought she had succeeded. But of course she didn’t, Papyrus believed too deeply in the good of others, he was young and naive. It took meeting a real human to change his mind. She warned him they were stupid and savage creatures. He didn’t believe her words, so she did what she’d trained to do: she hunted them. 

 

Warriors used to say that it is in those instances where you are faced with life and death, where your true colors emerge. She imagines the human showed their true colors that day. Years after, when he beat her into the ground during the duel, the last thing he said to her was: ‘You were right…there’s no such thing as heroes down here.’ Soon after she was demoted, now just a sentry in the outskirts of Waterfall; she trained every day in hopes of returning to her rightful position and smashing that smug smile off that skeleton’s jaw. It was foolish to believe they were ever friends.

 

Suddenly her thoughts are interrupted with a sharp rumble, as a cave-in starts somewhere in the tunnels. Undyne drops the boulder she was using as a weight and makes to run in the opposite direction, but pauses when she hears a sharp cry. A monster is trapped there! Without a second thought she runs fast, catching a glimpse of white in the dust. She reaches for them as a pile of rubble collapses on them both. Her hand catches a soft waist, as she hurls them under her and holds up the rocks with her hands, feeling the rest of them crash onto her back.

 

“You alright there, punk?” she says between clenched teeth, only to get a horrified scream in return.

 

“W-w-we’re going t-to DIE!”

 

“NO WE’RE NOT! So long as my soul is still shining I’M STILL FIGHTING!” she roars, making them squeal with fear. “And so are you! Now sit tight whoever you are, I’m getting us out of here!” she says in a gentler tone, albeit in the same volume.

 

“B-but we’re stuck!” they say shakily.

 

“Heh, I’ve suplexed bigger rocks in my sleep!” she laughs with some effort.

 

Her magic shines in a circle around them. It’s too risky to try this with so many at once, knowing her body might give out as she pours more magic into the attack, but only a loser refuses to take risks. With a roar, her spears fire upwards tearing at the stones and pushing them off of her. Debris flies down hitting them both as she grabs the monster and rolls out of the crumbling tunnel. She pants loudly, unraveling her arms so she can look down at them.

 

A small, pudgy reptile is laying on their back under her. The monster’s face is clouded by dust but their eyes are shining. They look up at Undyne as if she is their wildest dream come to vibrant life. They’re taking in her rippling muscles, the iridescent sheen to her scales have even through the dust, the lines traced on her skin by rivulets of sweat. Her multitude of scars, her eye patch and the ragged fins that cover the side of her face and flare back in a ponytail. They’re blushing, but under all the red dust from the cave, the sentry doesn’t even notice. Her eyes go to their muzzle instead.

 

“Hey, you’re hurt!” She places some fingers under their chin, delicately, to check a ragged wound across their mouth and nose. “You’re gonna need a doctor! Hang on, I’ll take you to one!” She rolls to her feet nothing happened, kneeling to help them up.

 

“…I-I’m a doctor.” they mumble shakily, feeling slightly faint now that the previous rush starts to wear off.

 

“Then I guess you can patch us up! Where to, doctor?” Undyne lifts them into her arms effortlessly and they gawk at her.

 

“…It’s i-in Hotland…next to the um, boat stop.” they place a shaky hand on their own face, holding it together with some magic so it won’t continue to ash.

 

“Then let’s go, you’re going to want a shower after this! What’s your name by the way?”

 

“I-I’m Alphys. T-thank you for saving me! You didn’t have to.”

 

“I’m Undyne and yeah I do; that’s what sentries are for, doctor!” she replied naturally.

 

“No, that’s what heroes are for.” she mumbled, too low for anyone to hear.

 

Alphys’ face may have been permanently scarred since that day, but she had gained something that made it worth it: a friend. A monster who would stay by her side no matter what. They understood each other, grounded in knowing what it was like to live in the shadows of your own failures. Alphys made the world a more bearable place to live in. Her extensive knowledge had not made her skeptical nor bitter, she still had space in her soul for wonder and hope, and to Undyne that in itself was beautiful.

 

In the warrior, Alphys found someone to trust unconditionally, someone who always tried to do the right thing, someone willing to fight for their freedom, a true hero. There was so much to learn from one another, so much they could do for each other. It made sense to stand side by side, first as friends but eventually as partners. Together they braved the terrors of the Old Underground, each striving in their own way to reach the surface. They worked arduously and certainly did things they would regret until death, but they were free. They had the rest of their lives to learn from their mistakes. After all that, Undyne thought there was nothing they couldn’t overcome, she felt the desire to bond her soul to Alphys’ growing as time healed their old wounds.

 

But things became different for them on the surface. Human society was different in unexpected ways, things like appearance, gender, weight, money I and language, things that were common Underground were reasons for scandal here. For Alphys something as common as rumors and discrimination could make her wither. Undyne couldn’t understand even when she tried; to her what others said about her was never that important, people and monsters were just too fickle. She didn’t get why it was so painful, she only paid attention to the things she could learn from, the things Alphys and her friends said. In all, what humans thought of her was not really that important. Yet regardless of what she did to comfort her partner, the distance between them grew. She was more scared of losing Alphys than anything, but she was convinced that if they stayed together they would find a way to fix this.

 

And together they stayed, but the breach between them didn’t disappear; it grew, it festered. When you experience something extremely painful, be it a life changing moment or a drawn out ordeal, it changes your soul permanently and there will always be marks left behind. Humans called it trauma, monsters called it Scarring. Undyne and Alphys didn’t realize they’d scarred each other until after their relationship ended. The time they insisted in staying together, even after they knew their partnership was becoming unhealthy, the well-intentioned lies, the avoidance of accountability they fostered in each other. Like small incisions made at the fault lines of their love, with enough pressure they became a gaping wound. In the end they left each other to bleed alone, but the scars still ached on the verge of bleeding even now.

 

 

“I don’t really know what to say to her. I know they care about each other, they’ve even stayed in touch all these years! But…” Papyrus shakes his head and rolls over on the bed, throwing his arm around Mettaton’s waist.

 

“This isn’t just about them though, there are lives at stake they should understand that. Your heart is in the right place, sugar skull, but they need to solve this. It’s been dragging on too long!” the robot twines their long legs together, running his hands soothingly over his vertebrae. “Let me talk to Alphys…if they don’t figure something out, we’ll just ask one of your students to guard her. How’s that sound?”

 

Papyrus makes a low purr, finally relaxing into his arms. “That sounds great, love…I’m so glad you’re here to share with me your marvelous suggestions…”

 

“Mmhm, glad to know you’re listening to my suggestions. I have another one for you…” he rolls his husband over and straddles his waist. Mettaton pauses to take in his face, half lit by the pink of his soul and the muted light of the moon through the curtains. He holds Papyrus’ face and leans down to make damn sure there’s nothing on his mind but their lips gliding together and their souls humming in unison.

 

 

 

 

“What was that? Anyone you need me to shoot for you, doctor?” Flowey kept swiveling, trying to get a look at her face from over her shoulder.

 

“T-that was Mettaton and I don’t really think that’s necessary.” She stuttered, fidgeting with her handlink.

 

“What’d he say that’s so bad?”

 

“Just reminding me of something I promised to do…I have to remember to stop making promises when I’m emotional.” She breathes out an exhausted sigh and lets herself fall in her couch.

 

“It’s about Undyne isn’t it?” The way she stares ahead is as much of a confirmation as her slight nod. “You still haven’t made up your mind?”

 

“I did…I just…I don’t know how.” She shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself in some vain attempt to feel comfort.

 

“Arentcha tired though? How long has it been since you broke up?” he scuttles on his drone to settle next to her. “…Around fifteen years on the surface.” she mutters numbly.

 

“And how many years were you together?”

 

“Since I was twenty one.”

 

“I may not be good at math, but I know that’s a long time.” he says, conversationally.

 

“Around forty two human years.” she replies absently.

 

“That’s almost half a human’s life. Monsters start picking careers at that age…” She doesn’t say anything, so he keeps going. “Do you understand what I’m getting at? You both stayed together through the old Underground, through breaking the barrier and seeing all the humans for the first time. After all that, is this really what you want? To just let it die? If you do, then just kill it off already…why do you both insist on suffering so much?” he turns to her, eyes intent.

 

“Y-you’re making it sound l-like I’m doing this because I like it! It’s not that simple!”

 

“It is simple. Everyone did loads bad of things back then! We lied, we killed, we were going insane trying to survive each other down there! But you just can’t let it control you. How are you ever going to get anywhere if you just keep looking back? You can’t fix what already happened.”

 

“I know I can’t…I can never f-fix anything because even after all of this I’m still…a failure. Someone so useless they can’t even tell her that they-”

 

“You’re not a failure! You make it sound like you’ve never done anything good with your life!” He leans over and when she avoids his face, he stretches his vines into the shape of a goat monster. He puts his paw firmly on her face and turns her to look at him.

 

“You helped us live the best we could down there. You made Mettaton a body, you gave so many other monsters a body and a voice! You found my soul back then when I thought I didn’t have one… Even if you screwed some things up before, you can do better than just blaming yourself forever; because beating yourself up over it isn’t going to fix anything!” she frowns, tears welling. His body ripples, his magic becoming unstable with emotion. All that body really is just an illusion of something that never really came to be.

 

“You have to take responsibility for what you did instead of pretending it never happened…then you can finally change. Once you look at it and take it all in…you can make something else out of your mistakes.” He pulls her into a hug, murmuring into her shoulder with a soft and tired voice that carries his true age in its tone.

 

“You want a good example? Look at Frisk and Sans…they almost fell apart because he wouldn’t tell them what he did. It was easier to pretend everything was alright than to face it. I wanted to pretend forever too, but it hurts more in the end. It doesn’t help anyone, it doesn’t save anything. It just hurts…So, I’ll make you a deal, doc. You tell her what you did and I’ll tell Frisk what I did too, then we both can own up to what we screwed up.” He sits back, his body just leaves and magic pretending to be a young monster, but the veracity of his words burning in his eyes.

 

“I…it’s not the same. They’ll forgive you right away, you know that. They love you too much Flowey.” she smiles bitterly.

 

“If you believe that, then what makes you think Undyne won’t forgive you?” he runs the back of his hand over her cheek and returns to his flower form. He scuttles away to set up the drones to help him make dinner and leaves her to her thoughts.

 

 

 

 

Undyne is brushing her facial fins when the phone rings. She startles at the ringtone, scrambling to rinse her face and hitting the speaker button. She throws a towel over her shoulders and talks loudly as she dries her face. “Hello, Alph! How’s it going?” she tries to stay casual, but her voice wavers and even her fins droop with nerves.

 

“H-hi…Undyne.” she says nothing more, before a distinct alert rings out from the device. Undyne brings it up to her face in disbelief, staring at the video call request flashing insistently. “Can we please talk? There’s…something I’ve been meaning to talk about, for a while now.” Alphys asks firmly.

 

Undyne drops onto the shower ledge, gulping past the rasp of the scar in her soul against her throat, as she presses the screen and sees Alphys’ face in front of her for the first time in years.

 

 

 

 

“Flowey that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you! We can play DDR with the holo pads now! I can hug you harder! You can get in the pool! I mean, oh my god!” He waited for Frisk to wind down from their hyperactive joy over seeing how he’d improved in changing into his Asriel form. Though they video called almost every week, he rarely stayed in this form too long; the research with Alphys had helped him figure out how to hold it for longer than usual but it wasn’t a permanent change. He shifted back, more comfortable as a flower than anything else and waited for them to settle down.

 

“Pshh, like I couldn’t do that before. You seem to have forgotten the butt kicking Hypergodofdeath999 unleashed on your noob butt last week.”

 

“Nah I didn't, but it’s still really cool though, it’s different in a good way.”

 

“ Yes it is, but hey, listen, there’s some stuff I wanted to talk to you, besides this thing.” he starts awkwardly, this wasn’t as easy as he’d made it sound.

 

“Oh, okay, sure. Shoot. I mean sorry I didn’t let you talk, I was just really excited, you know? Darn it I’m rambling, again! Go ahead.” they finish, practically vibrating in place. He’d hate to wipe that smile off their face, but he has to do this.

 

“You remember that when we… met in the Old Underground when things were, more than a little twisted…” they nod, sobering up and giving him an attentive look. “I…before I met you I…did a lot of bad things, Frisk. I hurt monsters and humans.”

 

“It’s ok. I know all of you did some…messed up things.” they try, using Sans words. “But you were in a really messed up place and I know that’s not who you are; so don’t think I’ll ever stop caring about you because of it. Is there anything in specific you wanted to talk about?”

 

They were making this so hard, it would be easier to argue; it was with everyone else, but not them. He bit into his mouth, tasting ashes and swallowing them bitterly to steel his resolve. He nods and starts again. “I…I stole the other six souls back then. At first I wanted to do what I promised Chara; but I couldn’t absorb them. I’m not Asriel. I didn’t have a soul…I found you and thought I could use you to break the barrier. But then you…I-I couldn’t let you die like that. I brought you back the first few times you died but then the flowers started spreading and I didn’t know- I couldn’t stop it…I’m sorry I made you suffer so much! I didn’t know how to stop it! I couldn’t save you fr-”

 

“You too, huh?” he looks up then, their voice sounds so rough. He’s in tears already, but their eyes staring back at him are dry. That doesn’t make their expression any less hurt, doesn’t make his soul ache any less. They frown deeply and look away from him. He chokes back his tears in shame, waiting for the inevitable outburst. They don’t scream, but there is a slight growl to their voice when they continue.

 

“You all though I was so fragile that entire time…but I kept trying. I didn’t give up that easily, even after all the times they killed me. All of you keep lying to protect me from yourselves instead of just…letting me see things for myself! I’m not going to hate you for what you did, I can’t.” they run their hand over their head, tearing some of the flowers that writhe from their eye and into their temples. “I have no idea what I would’ve been like if I’d been born in a place like that. Whatever the reason…you helped me. You became my friend. I know not all of that was a lie. You could’ve left me when I died, but you didn’t, you could’ve taken my soul when I died, but you didn’t. Whatever the reason right now I know you care and that’s…that’s enough for now.” Frisk finishes, their voice firm and clear as they look up from the flowers in their hand. Their golden eye bores into his own, making his soul shudder in relief.

 

“Frisk…I’m sorry.” he bows his head.

 

“I know…just don’t lie to me anymore. I know you’re different now, so don’t lie to me about what happened.” their voice wavers a little and he looks up at them. Facing his mistakes in their eye, that to this day continues to gaze at him with understanding. They are still willing to show kindness, even now. The thought fills Flowey with hope and with determination.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plague of truth letting continues to spread as our beloved monsters begin to let loose all the piled up problems and lies they'd been keeping. Hope that was enough Alphys and Undyne for a while. Thank you so much for reading and for your patience. Know that the story will indeed keep going and is about two thirds of the way done so don't fret the demon of incomplete fics for I have exorcised it with sheer stubbornness and determination. Hope to see you next time and that you enjoyed reading!
> 
> (now hopefully I can catch some z's) (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)


	35. Irrational expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The monsters have an impromptu meeting to decide what they will do about the human soul hosts, meanwhile Sans tries to come to terms with a damaging habit.

  
  


  
  
  


Sans walks through the common living room of the mansion, absently scratching his hipbone over his boxers. He stopped caring about what the robot had to say about his clothes during the first week and right now his only concern is to restock his dwindling ketchup supply. Going back to drinking ketchup instead of mustard made him nostalgic at first, but now he can’t imagine why he didn’t do it sooner. He rummages through the pantry, finding the new bottles at the very back of the highest shelf. 

 

That damn robot, making everything difficult.

 

A high pitched squeal nearly makes him drop the swarm of cans and bottles floating over his head. He uses his magic to hurriedly replace them on the shelf, before taking a bottle and hiding it in his ribcage. He walks back through the kitchen cautiously, catching his brother-in-law pacing back and forth in the living room. Mettaton is exclaiming excitedly, apparently talking to a friend. Sans is about to shortcut back into his room when the robot calls him over. 

 

There goes his happy-ketchup-alone-time.

 

“-and I am positively ecstatic for you, oh Sans! It’s actually great to see you this time, come over here I have some important news for everyone!” the robot walks over, without a chasis, wearing only a set of  fancy, silk pajamas with matching slippers over his almost-human musculature. He’s also wearing a bun on his hair, just awful.

 

“Not now, I gotta-”

 

“Nonsense, this is important! It’s about your flower honey!” he laughs pompously, extending one of his metal arms to pull him over.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Well, yes he’s here darling, do you want to say hi? Of course, here you go.” Mettaton extends his free hand and a piece of his palm slides away to reveal a lens. Alphys’ face is projected in front of them and she greets Sans enthusiastically. He smiles and greets her back, picking Mettaton’s hand off his arm.

 

“W-what I was telling Mettaton is that we’ve been looking through all the information we gathered and have come up with some possible locations for the soul hosts and I was calling to see if Papy-”

 

“Yes, yes, we know! Trust me, this bag of bones has been on top of these things like a dog with a bone!” he nudges Sans, who growls begrudgingly. “I mean the other thing! Tell him, go on! I want to  see his face when you tell him!”

 

“Oh, ah, that…Um I, uh…spoke with Undyne a couple of days ago and I told her what happened with the…amalgamates.” she stutters, shyly.

 

Sans’ face does not disappoint, an uncharacteristic mixture of stunned worry and endearment, Mettaton makes sure to take a picture and save it for future blackmailing.

 

“Shit, that’s uh, great that you got it offa your chest. How’d it go?” he frowns with concern. What a sentimental nerd! This is pure gold, thinks Mettaton.

 

“It’s um, she took it okay. She was kind of surprised, but she said she understood why I didn’t tell her… she uh, seemed relieved. I’m more than a little relieved myself, to be honest. We’ve been catching up, trying to get along again. Well, we might as well, since she’s going to be my um, b-bodyguard for a while.” she giggles nervously, but the obvious blush on her face makes it clear she is quite happy with the situation..

 

“Heh…glad you cod figure something out. Wouldn’t want you both staying salty forever.” he winked at her, she snickered. Mettaton groaned and pushed the skeleton’s face out of the way, straightening to his full height put Sans out of her sight.

 

“That’s enough of that, I wanted you to be happy, Sans, not to ruin my morning with your cheap jokes. Now Alphys-chan, back to business. Asgore sent a message, he will be leading a meeting with all of us next Tuesday. I’m guessing he will be telling us how to best deal with this whole ‘human souls’ business.”

 

“Yes, t-that’s right. So far we’ve figured where some of the other hosts might be. That’s why I called. Maybe you could get Papyrus to start getting a group together, since we would have to see them in person to confirm they have a human soul and it’s going to be,um, how do I put this?”

 

“A mess.” Sans interjected. “Ya got any way of identifying them that doesn’t involve EM scanning every poor bastard?”

 

“Um, well, unless we had a group of boss monsters to check all the souls in the area; no, no we don’t. I was working on replicating Mettaton’s scanners, but I need a better idea of what I’m looking for. All the data I have is on Frisk and what Mett gave me on Ika. It’s not that useful for finding the other hosts i-if we don’t actually know what we’re looking for.”

 

“Can’t ya just isolate the scanner to look for one of the seven colors at a time? Pick the person with the highest concentration of one color?” he suggests.

 

“I could, but the scanners are mostly programed for monster energy, and though we have some for human magic we don’t have one to scan for both at the same time. Besides the host’s colors m-might interfere with the reading, if those images are anything to go by. The combination of the two souls might be read as another color, so we can’t assume that will work. The only way is to do it when they’re using their powers but the I chances of that are pretty slim.” she taps the screen and an electromagnetic scan of Ika appears on screen. Just like when he saw the old lady in person, the scan shows a light blue soul overlapping a dark blue green monster soul. She’s right, this isn’t that simple.

 

“Alright, both of you pause the science babble for a moment. I’ll be right back. Good morning tall, dark and handsome!” he struts away, stretching his arm to leave Alphys talking with Sans while he greets his husband, who is already fully dressed in his weekend exercise attire. The two scientists throw ideas around while the husbands chatter happily, ways away from them.

 

“Good morni-what’s going on?” Frisk walks into the living room, confused.

 

“ ‘Mornin kid. We uh-”

 

“GOOD MORNING TINY SKELETON! It seems my love and my brother started a meeting behind our backs! Care to join me as we catch up?”

 

“Sure, let me just get my cereal. Hi, Dr. Alphys!” they wave at her, she waves back awkwardly.

 

“Wait, darling! Let’s all move this to the table; we can have a breakfast meeting!”

 

“Don’t make it into a thing, let Alphys finish what she’s gotta say.” Sans growls as they all shuffle into the big dining room, followed closely by the head butler, Jaques.

 

“A-actually, I think it’s a good idea. We can get ready for Asgore’s meeting and we can catch up?” she says, hopefully.

 

“Oh course, Alphys. You still have many more juicy details to share with me!” Mettaton says with a smirk.

 

She snickers nervously as they settle on their chairs. The maids bring their breakfast over and set the table, Jaques places a conference drone at the empty end of the table and transfers Alphys’ call to it with a polite bow.

 

Alphys explains to them her findings on how the barrier worked and some of her theories as to how the hosts came to be. Frisk and Papyrus ask her many questions, while Sans exchanges documents from his handlink with her and makes tentative plans. She can’t resist the munchies, as she watches them eat and joins them with some fruit and pastries. Later a sudden burst of japanese rock from her side startles the doctor, who scrambles to answer another call. Her old friends snicker, knowing who’s calling, while Frisk stares between them cluelessly.

 

“She just started talking with her ex-girlfriend again.” Sans mutters to them. “Iguana say I didn’t see it coming, but I knew nofin can kill reel love.” he says louder.

 

“No puns at the table, Sans!” Papyrus says, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Nor anywhere else for that matter. I’d rather you be sarcastic, at least that’s almost funny.” the robot muttered.

 

“I don’t get it.” Frisk whispers to Sans who is about to start explaining the joke when Alphys interrupts.

 

“U-um. Undyne wants t-to join the conference! If that’s alright with you guys?” she’s blushing again.

 

“Never mind, just check it out.” Sans nudges Frisk with his elbow.

 

“EXCELLENT! We can have a rehearsal meeting! That way we will be DOUBLY prepared!” the taller skeleton beams at Alphys and she links the calls. They all hear her before they can see her.

 

“GOOD MORNIN’ PUNKS! and Alphys…Hey, is that the nerd? Long time no see, Sans! And…who is that?” Undyne puts down what looks like the mother of all deadlifts with one arm before leaning farther  into the camera.

 

“Hi, I’m Frisk…oh.” They try not to laugh as the puns hit home. “I-it’s nice to meet you.”

 

“HOLY SHIT YOU WEREN’T KIDDING! They still got the flowers and everything!” she exclaims, they flinch, at her loudness, rather than the observation.

 

“Language, Undyne!” Papyrus says, his serious tone, undermined by the happy smile on his face.

 

“More like volume.” Mettaton adds.

 

“My bad, I saw the pictures but I didn’t think- whatever. The name’s Undyne, punk! It’s nice to meet ya!”

 

“Same here.” they wave and smile at her nervously.

 

“Nice to meet ya, Undyne Punk, I’m Sans.”

 

“Shaddup nerd! You know, Paps told me you started training again. Don’t make me give him ideas on how to take it up a notch. ” she sneered.

 

“Could you like, notch do that?” he drawled, getting a bark of a laugh out of her.

 

“You know what? I could use a second opinion. Thank you Undyne!” Papyrus growls.

 

Her laughter now booms and Frisk stares curiously. She’s as exuberant as Papyrus, but perhaps because they’re already used to him he doesn’t seem nearly as intimidating. Her mouth is full of sharp teeth, her face is covered in scars, and her muscles are amazing. They didn’t think it was possible but she looks even tougher than she does on those youtube videos Sans showed them!

 

“Okay, introductions and tasteless humor aside, let’s get back on track.” Mettaton, wipes his lips daintily and stands. “You called this impromptu meeting to update us, but also because you were going to ask us for some help. So shoot, sweetness, tell me what you need”

 

“Oh um…as I was saying, here’s the map with the anomalies we’ve found so far.” A spinning hologram of the globe appeared over the table, dotted with little colored lights; some areas shine brighter than the others. The area around Mt. Ebbot is the brightest, and Frisk feels a twinge of sadness, seeing how far they are from their old home.

 

“I shall have the Guard teams prepared to search these areas by the end of next week, doctor!”

 

“T-that’s great Papyrus. I’ve been working on the portable EM scanners, but they need to be calibrated to identify hosts, specifically. I don’t want them to go off every time you pass by someone with a similar colored soul. Until I have more information we’re kind of guessing, for now.” she laughs awkwardly, pushing her glasses up her muzzle.

 

“Can I help? If I’m close to them I can tell if they…have a human soul or not.” Frisk asks, a little put off when everyone turns to them curiously.

 

“T-that would be, I-I mean…” a persistent beeping from Frisk’s hand-link interrupts Alphys’ awkward approach. As they excuse themselves to reply a sudden stream of text messages, she looks at the rest of them helplessly. Sans shakes his head no at her frowning. Papyrus on the other hand exchanges thoughtful looks with Undyne, while Mettaton’s busy examining the map.

 

“Flowey wants to join in too. Is that ok?” Frisk asks, looking up.

 

“Of course, we need all the input we can get!” Papyrus claps his hands, walking over to stand behind Mettaton. The robot leans his head back and whispers something to him.

 

“Here, lemme get that.” Sans leans over to Frisk, showing them how to link the video call to the drone on the table. In a moment Flowey is projected alongside, the other two holograms.

 

“Howdy! Looking good, Frisk! Lazy bones.” he nods in acknowledgement at Sans, who waves lazily. Then he looks around “Golly, this might as well be the meeting, everyone’s here! Hi, Fishstick!”

 

“Hi, yourself weed!” Undyne replies, with a friendly growl. Sans chokes on his food snickering, Frisk gives him a look and he leans over trying not to laugh in their face as he tries to explain. After the greetings and pleasantries are exchanged, Mettaton steers them back into the conversation, urging Alphys to get to the point.

 

“Oh, right. Sans I…I’ve been going through some of the old Royal Scientist’s research, about the barrier but I, uh, may need help translating his handwritten notes, they um…”

 

“No problem doc. I dunno if that can wait ‘till you send them over, so I can just cook up a program to translate the thing. You think yer gonna need help decoding it?” he seems unfazed, and it catches her off guard. His father always seemed like a sore subject, one she didn’t want to bring up in a table full of people that didn’t even remember Gaster existed until a couple of decades ago.

 

“That would be amazing, Sans! T-thanks a lot, I mean I might have to call every now and then to get a second opinion.” she manages.

 

“ ‘S fine, I’ll be yer second mate.” he shoots her double pistols and a wink, glancing at Undyne pointedly, the doctor blushes.

 

“Alphys, darling, sorry to interrupt but I have a question.” the robot says, loud enough to get all of their dwindling attentions back on him.

 

“Go ahead, Mett.” 

 

“I understand that these are the places where there’s strange events and high magical readings. But this entire process: tracking the possible hosts, figuring out which of them are actually real; that little side project of finding some human mages, figuring out what the barrier has to do with this, plus catching this crazy lady who is trying to steal the human souls…” he counts his points on one hand. “You know I’m not one to kill a party, but this is going to take years.”

 

The others are quiet now as what he says fully sinks in for some of them. Frisk half knew this, but hearing it laid out so plainly hit them a little harder than they expected.They try to keep a traight face but their jaw is trembling a little. Sans grabs their arm under the table and they share a look with him. The idea is daunting but it's encouraging to remember their friends will be here no matter what.

 

“Why are you so certain, love? We’re going to catch Dahlia soon, you’ll see!” Papyrus says, confidently.

 

“I know that, but-” his husband starts.

 

“Even if we catch her, there might be others. They could be dangerous to us, or to the public. The king won’t let idiots with so much power running around loose. We’re gonna have to make sure they don’t do anything stupid.” Undyne puts in. Mettaton nods at her, acknowledging her point.

 

“That was rude but still, Undyne is right. We can’t leave this alone until we catch the others. It will take the teams at least a couple of months to question all the suspects. Plus, in this room there’s only three people who can see souls, and that’s three too many. Even if we split up, which let’s be honest here, we won’t…” he glances at Sans pointedly, who refuses to let go of Frisk’s arm. “How are they going to identify the hosts, let alone catch them? While you may  _ find _ suspects you can’t force them to take the scans. One lady you’re chasing can make things go through her and the other can tell the future. Who knows what else these other hosts can do. We can’t just sit around and wait for detectives, we need to do this ourselves!” he finishes, with righteous indignation.

 

“You mean we get to go behind the government’s back? Woohoo, anarchy!” Flowey chimed in with an evil little grin.

 

Frisk shakes their head, then turns to Sans. He is slumped on his chair, one eye closed, the other roaming the table idly. But his hand on their forearm was firm, trying to be reassuring and steady, but too stiff in contrast with the rest of his body. He didn’t like this, and neither did they, but not exactly for the same reasons.

 

“I could help, if you want.” Frisk offers again, voice certain, despite the nerves.

 

Everyone pauses their conversation and turns to them. They put a hand over Sans’, sliding it off their arm and putting their own on his shoulder as they stand up. The others couldn’t pretend they didn’t hear Frisk now. “I can tell when a monster has a human soul, if I see them in person, so…I can help you find them.”

 

“That’s not such a bad idea. Certainly, it might be good for you to leave the country for a bit, at least until we catch Dahlia. We can beat her to it if we hurry! Find the hosts before she can, some of them might even help us catch her!” Papyrus put in, pacing excitedly.

 

“Yeah, get em out of your house ya doofus! Everyone in the Guard knows where you live!” Undyne guffawed.

 

“Just because everyone know where he lives, doesn’t mean anyone can get in without permission, darling.” A light flashes menacingly under the hair that covers the side of Mettaton’s face. “But I agree, we could split up and track the hosts separately to save time. That Ika lady said there might be one in New Orleans and I see she was right about that too.” he points out a bright cluster in the map, somewhere near the coast.

 

“She’s been right about everything so far, actually. Even if she was a little, uh, hard to understand at first.” Alphys muttered.

 

“She’s a total nutjob, but she can definitely see the future, trust us!” Flowey nods.

 

“We can’t just take Frisk around the world to find these freaks. Some of them might be as crazy as Dahlia is!” Sans growls, tensing as if he too, wants to stand up.

 

“Or they might be like Bliz, using their powers to help people.” Frisk says firmly, returning to their seat next to him. “Either way, I want to help if I can. I’m going to be running around anyway, right?”

 

Papyrus exchanges a sympathetic look with his husband and the doctor, while Undyne just frowns thoughtfully and Flowey bounces in place excitedly.

 

“I want to go with you! I called mom just now, she’s calling Asgore to move up the meeting since we’re all here already. I told him what you’ve all been rambling about and he seems to like splitting up the plan. He’s worried about what the hosts will do with their powers and the faster we can get them under control the better.” Flowey says.

 

“He what?!” this time, Sans does stand up.

 

“Oh my goodness, I have to freshen up. Frisk! Come here, we can’t let you see the king in your pajamas! Hustle sweetie!”

 

Mettaton practically drags all of them away to put on more presentable clothes. He fusses with Frisk’s clothes, until Flowey’s screeching from the dining room becomes unbearable. In a couple of minutes they’re all back at the table, slightly more presentable and in Frisk’s case infinitely much more nervous.

 

“You done? Gee, you act like he’s never seen you in pajamas. The guy probably saw you when you were getting made, numb-bolts.” Flowey hisses at Mettaton, who somehow managed to get in a business suit in those few minutes.

 

“That’s beside the point, I refuse to be underdressed before royalty!” he snaps, walking over to throw a dress jacket and jeans at Sans in an attempt to make him more decent. He grumbles but puts them on anyway when Papyrus gets up to ‘help’.

 

“Asgore doesn’t care what you wear, Mettaton, get over it.” Undyne rolls her eyes, wiping her sweaty face with a towel hanging around her neck.

 

“Greetings everyone, thank you for responding so quickly. Hello my children!” Toriel’s gentle voice cuts through the bickering. She waves at Frisk and Flowey, who greet her joyfully. After they all settle around the table she continues.

 

“Asgore will be with us shortly. Flowey has sent the information to me and I have to say I agree with Mettaton.” He beams at her, flattered. “It would be prudent to put as much distance as possible between you and anything Dahlia may use to track you. Moving periodically will make it harder for her to find you and indeed, the few of us who can see souls unassisted cannot afford to be quite so mobile. All of that said I do hope you can ensure their safety, Papyrus.” she said, her voice still poised but deadly serious.

 

“Of course, Mrs. Toriel! I can guarantee they will be more than safe! I will have my best guards escorting them wherever they go!” he puffs his chest proudly. “Alphys and myself have safe houses in all but six of these locations. We can leave those to the rest of the team and make sure Frisk has a safe place to stay!”

 

The ex-queen nods patiently, glancing around the table. Everyone looks wary but excited at the prospect of working alongside each other in another colossal endeavor. It had been many years since they all worked together like this. Only Sans seemed dour, eyes narrowed and a frown over his dark sockets. Before they could address it further they were interrupted by an incoming call. Frisk grips Sans’ hand under the table as the king requests to join their video conference.

 

“Howdy everyone, it’s so nice to see you together after all this time.”

 

Frisk stare, dumbfounded, unable to join in the greetings the others threw around. The king looked so much like Toriel, it caught them off guard. He had a similar facial structure, but the planes of his face were bigger, wider. His eyes were surrounded by redness too, only darker like he hadn’t slept in a long time and his horns curled so far from his head they disappeared off-screen. But the biggest difference was the amount of hair; not that Toriel was hairless, by any means, but Asgore was definitely hairer. He had a mane and a beard of a tawny color, streaked with white and dark browns. 

 

His voice is deep and rumbling, as is his laugh, he didn’t seem to notice them as he talked to the others amiably. He was wearing a flower print shirt and they could see hedges and flowers behind him, he was gardening. It clashed horribly with the mental image they had of him, even seeing him online had not prepared them. His eyes were a deep amber and held some sort of sadness, similar but not quite the same as the one in Toriel’s. They didn’t realize he’d spoken to them until the others turned to them quietly.

 

“You alright there, kid?” Sans muttered, they nodded, gathering their courage and standing up.

 

“Sorry, I was distracted. You don’t look like I imagined, um, your majesty. My name’s Frisk, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” They give the king a polite smile which he returns gently.

 

“The pleasure is mine, little one, I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner, my name is Asgore Dreemur. I was just asking about your ability to sense the other human soul hosts. Alphys told me you need to be close for it to work, is that so?” They nod, still nervous, but holding his gaze.

 

“I think I have to touch them at least once. After that I can feel where they are if I concentrate. But I’m sure I could tell them apart from regular people just by looking.”

 

The king nods, and just like that he turns to the others. Frisk sits back down, making their ribs expand and contract with an unnecessary sigh. Sans bumps their shoulder with his.

 

“Are ya sure ya wanna do this? We could just, you know, lay low until it blows over.” he says, plaintively. It’s clear he’d rather they stay as far away from this mess as possible.

 

“I’m sure. I want to help; I don’t want her to do that to anyone else and…this is something I want to do for you guys and for me. It’s something only I can do that will help everyone, why wouldn’t I want  to?” they say, eye shining with certainty. His own are wavering.

 

“I…just want ya to be safe. This mess ain’t yer fault, there’s no reason you gotta clean it up.” he grumbles, leaning close so only they can hear.

 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” they say honestly. They’d said something along those lines years ago. The words and the smile they give him trigger a sharp, almost painful lurch in his soul. Something so precious should never be allowed to break. Bringing them into his life only brought them suffering,  always put them in danger. But through all that darkness they still shone, and that in itself was utterly beautiful. So, how could he say no to them?

 

“Earth to numbskull!...Earth to lazybones!….EARTH TO SMILEY TRASHBAG!”

 

“Flowey! That’s no way to address your friend. Apologize this instant, young one.” Toriel admonished.

 

“Mom, he’s totally ignoring me! Geez, fine. Sorry I called you a trashbag…you bag of bones! Now stop staring at Frisk and answer me!”

 

“Sorry to interrupt all of you, it has been great to catch up with you, my friends. But I need to leave soon and I believe I’ve already made a decision.” The way the king’s voice carriers across the room cuts through the chatter. He doesn’t raise his voice but his calm and commanding tone is enough to get them all in order. “I will allow all of you to direct this project, if we can call it that. This endeavor is to be kept as private as possible, for both monster and humankind’s sake. Papyrus?”

 

“Yes, your majesty?” he stands straight, chin high.

 

“Have your teams track down any possible host candidates. I will make sure the police and Guard continue the search for Dahlia. She cannot be allowed to obtain any more of souls. Mettaton, you are excused, I understand you have an incredibly busy schedule.”

 

“If  _ you’ll _ excuse  _ me _ your highness, I’m the one who says what goes first on my schedule. Nothing is as important as the well-being of my family…and my fans of course! What do you need me to do?” he says, obviously enjoying the attention.

 

“Actually I want you to take your travels as an opportunity to find the candidates, if you can. Your tour may not take you to every place we need to see, but you are the most capable of travelling without arousing any suspicion. Please share what you find with all of us.”

 

“It will be my pleasure, your highness.” he says, looking smug even as he bows his head to the king.

 

“What about Frisk?” Flowey interjected.

 

“I believe that they should be sent to one of the safe houses that is far from Mt. Ebbot, but still close to one of us. I don’t want them somewhere we cannot reach them.” Toriel says.

 

“Yeah but no one here can go with them. Everyone knows who Mettaton is, Papyrus is pretty famous too and I’m going to be taking care of Alphys. So that leaves Sans…” Undyne counted them off with a wary scowl.

 

“And me! I can go with them!” the flower insisted.

 

“B-but Flowey…what about the research?…” Alphys said.

 

“Crud, I know that, but…” he looks at Frisk intensely.

 

“We all have a role to play in this. It would be best if we stay where we are needed most. I trust Papyrus’ guards and Sans can keep them safe.” Toriel said with finality.

 

“Very well, I too trust Papyrus’ judgement. If that’s settled; Alphys, you and Undyne will leave the host search to Papyrus and Mettaton. Focus on finding out more about the human souls and mages; there might be a way to prevent the worst from happening without having to capture all the hosts. Flowey, young one, please stay with Alphys, it’s clear she needs your help in her research.”

 

“…yes, dad.” he muttered. They all stayed quiet for a moment, though Undyne looked as if she was trying not to laugh.

 

“As for Toriel and I, regrettably our duties keep us here for the time being. That said, all that’s left is to decide where our, own host will begin their search.” he finishes, turning to Frisk. 

 

“I’d like to go to New Orleans if that’s possible. I know she’s weird but I trust Ika and I think she’s trying to help. She told us that’s where another host would be and it’s not too far from everyone.” they say confidently, Papyrus beams at them proudly.

 

“That lady could’ve been lying though. It’s too risky.” Sans growls. Frisk tries not to look at him, knowing they will see his fear and concern.

 

“Even if she is there’s no point in keeping Frisk in one place. Dahlia won’t be able to leave the state that easily anyway. I say the more they move the better. ” Mettaton countered.

 

“I agree, I will send a team ahead and take every precaution to ensure your safety. Whatever you choose, you will be safe because we are on your side. Besides, I’m sure my brother will take care of you, wherever you go.” Papyrus gave his brother a look.

 

“I’d rather you didn’t go, but it’s your choice. If you see anything crazy, call us, you hear!?” Flowey says to them, they nod firmly.

 

“Are we all in agreement then?” Asgore calls the attention back to himself, sparing Sans a glance.

 

Everyone around the table voices their agreement loudly, Sans says nothing and pretends to doze, though his eyes are dark and his mouth too tense.

 

“Then it’s settled. Like Alphys suggested we have connected our hand-links. Whatever you do, keep them on your person. We will be able to keep track of you and help you if necessary. Papyrus, Mettaton, Alphys; I will contact you regularly to monitor your progress. And Frisk?”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Thank you for helping us so readily. I know this situation is not easy and you did not involve yourself by choice, but the way you’ve taken on this responsibility with us…I genuinely respect it. So, thank you and best of luck on your search. Farewell friends, we will be in touch.” the king smiles at everyone one last time before the call ends.

 

From then on it devolves into inane conversations between those left behind. Papyrus and Undyne catch up and Mettaton takes Alphys’ call back onto his hand link, hoping to press her for details on her preparations for Undyne’s arrival. Flowey is talking with Frisk now, while Sans sits by their side, numb with fear and reeling from seeing everything slip from between his hands again.

 

“Right, Sans?…Sans?” they turn to him, unable to keep themselves from glancing at his chest. His magic is wavering.

 

“Sorry ‘bout that, I’m so tired I couldn’t ketchup with the conversation.” he slips the ketchup bottle from his ribs and takes swig. A line of ketchup dribbles from the corner of his mouth and either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Frisk takes a left over napkin and wipes it off gently, his eyes meet theirs, tiny pinpricks of bruised red.

 

“I’ll call ya later Flowey, I’m going to be late for training if I don’t get ready.” they say.

 

“Yeah, yeah…take care of the lazybones for me. Both of you numbskulls, just…stay safe, ok?” the flower says, trying not to let his concern show too easily.

 

“We will, I promise. Talk to you later!” they hang up and take Sans’ hand, dragging him off the chair and to their side of the house. He lets them, arm limp and feet dragging petulantly.

 

They sit him on the couch, take his dress jacket off and throw it over the back of it, then plop down next to him.

 

“I’m really sorry, Sans. I know you wanted to keep me…safe. I know you care about what might happen to me, if I go out there and start looking for these people, these monsters I guess.” he doesn’t reply, but they know he’s listening. “I don’t want to force you to do anything, but I want to do this for myself. Whether I like it or not I’m in this mess and I want to do what I can to help clean it up, you know? No one else should have to...to die because of this nonsense.”

 

“It doesn’t hafta be you.  _ They _ can fix it, you heard ‘em.” he grumbles, bitterly before putting the ketchup away under his shirt. “You can help from here, ya don’t gotta go right into the mess.” he takes their hand in both of his and looks into their eyes with some sort of desperation. He’s pleading, they realize, and the thought makes their soul ache with a strange sort of pity.

 

“I know that…but I really believe it’s the right thing to do. I can’t sit around knowing she’s out there looking for them. Looking for me. I know I’ll be safe with you, but the other hosts, they don’t even know-”

 

“It’s not up to you to save them!” he almost shouts, unwilling to acknowledge the irony of him saying that, when he’s doing the same damn thing. “For all you know, they’re just like Dahlia.” he says more composed.

 

“For all we know they’re just like Bliz.” they counter evenly. He was starting to miss the days when they were a shy, stuttering ball of awkward.

 

“I don’t want to wait around until something happens to anyone else. What are we going to do if she kills more people? She takes their powers, then who’s going to stop her? I know you’re all strong but I’m not willing to let her try and hurt any of you…you’re all the family I have right now.” the emotion in their voice makes him choke on his retort and his voice all but dies when they reach out and embrace him. They’re not looking for comfort, their mind is already more than made up. They’re trying to comfort him.

 

How did it come to this? Sans knows he’s being overly protective, he knows they can take care of themselves and he knows that he’s not going to let anything happen to them, no matter what. But in spite of that, he can’t help the desperate worry that weighs on his soul, the old scar throbs as if in warning. Even his soul knows he can’t take another hit like that. They squeeze him harder and his face slumps into their shoulder. They smell vaguely of the cinnamon milk tea they had before. He wraps his arms around them, claws gripping their shirt. He refuses to lose them again.

 

“Sans…”

 

“Jeez kid…I gotcha. I’ll be here either way. I don’t care where the hell you go, I’m gonna be there to look after ya…Friends ‘till we kick the bucket remember?”

 

“I’m glad…I’m always here for you too you know?” they pull away and offer him a smile, showing him their pinkie.

 

“Yeah, I know.” he says, unable to stop himself from smiling back and twining their bony fingers together.

 

“I know that was a little awkward but…”they glance at his chest. “you don’t have to get all red over it!” they say, pressing their mouth closed to keep a smile away. He follows their eye, for the first time he can remember unfazed by seeing red spreading on his shirt. Happy-ketchup-alone time had definitely flatlined for today, but not all the fun as of yet.

 

“Yeah, you got my bleeding heart going with that little speech, what can I say? It shook me up from my head tomatoes.”

 

He winked, before hugging them back fiercely, sharing the ketchup stain. They laugh in surprise, trying to shake him off but only succeed in rolling them both off the couch. They hit the ground still laughing. When he feels their soul flutter with such fierce joy next to his, he closes his eyes letting his own heart join in for just a moment; promising to himself that no matter what happens, he would never let anything or anyone take that joy away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked back at some point and thought: there's not enough dialogue, there's too much narrative. Then this happened: an eight way conversation between a lot of crazy characters. Hope it wasn't as confusing to read as it was at times to write. Thank you all for reading and I hope yer having fun. The set up is done, now lets look for those hosts and see if we can get these two skele-nerds romancing!
> 
> (･ω<)☆


	36. You make your own luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ika baits Dahlia and as she is hunted, Frisk and Sans head out to the safe house in New Orleans.

  
  


Ika pushes the couple out of her tent in a hurry, they are amused and think it’s all part of her act. Silly gooses. You don’t need to see the future to know they’ll be happy together; but she’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Easy fortunes mean easy money and easy magic. Which is necessary but no good right now. She needs something more complex, something flashier.

 

Then she sees her, a small fae type monster, a darling little thing; fluttering a few feet off the ground and carrying a shopping bag. She gets her game face on and approaches her with a friendly greeting. What luck it seems, if it were not for fate, that the ravine of this girl destiny flows alongside theirs. The world is not really that small, but the mountain certainly is. Her name is Laiza, partner of Pete and as obvious as it is that her life too will be simple and happy, the same cannot be said for those around her. Ika reaches deep and far, trying to catch glimpses of the two skeletons. One bitter with forgetting, the other bitter in remembering.

 

They’re eating dinner with her, they’re at the hospital when her babies hatch, they’re visiting for the holidays, they’re sharing gifts. They are missing things, they have changed, they are scarred and older if only she could see more...The hunger strains her out of it before she can see anything other than flashes, all useless for now. The young monster is excited, but also concerned for her. It’s not as easy to kick someone out when they can fly and you cannot. But after Ika eats the pastry she offered, the girl leaves. Ika slumps to the floor tiredly, shoving the rest of the snack in her mouth and letting the natural tandem of excess magic flow into her. 

 

As the magic drains from all the souls around her, leaving a momentary black hole she waits. She reaches out, absorbing all she can take, just enough to refill her energy to a halfway point. Just enough to pack and run again. Then she finds it, she can see feel it, more than see it. The hunger at the edge of her perception, a ravenous craving so much sharper than her own. Now she knows the chase is on, she can feel the hunter’s eyes on her back as she scrambles to fulfill her fate. Even if she knows it is written, her body trembles with the instinct to preserve itself, a meaningless flicker of hope against odds she knows are rigged for failure. 

  
  
  
  


 

He leans over the human child, her bleary eyes trying to speak, her small hand trying to reach for him. 

 

 

**_Don’t leave me alone...I lied...I’m scared... I don’t want...I don’t want to disappear!_ **

**_...I’ m  s c a r e d…_ **

 

 

Lupan slips his hand into hers, wrapping his other tentacle delicately around her shoulders. The machines are beeping erratically and the nurses scramble to set up the holograms of her parents. Her parents have been working so hard to pay for this, but there’s not much else for it. Rather than the falsely optimistic reply the doctor had given them, Lupan chose to be straightforward. He asked them to stay with her in her last, but they, too stubborn to give up, continued to work. He hated the lingering stain sadness and fear left on his soul. But that was the price for helping them find peace, the price for buying back the goodness in his soul. He wanted to help her; but he also wanted to be happy himself someday, so he had much to pay for. 

 

“I’m here. It’s going to be alright, Ruthy. I promise you, it won’t hurt anymore. All you have to do is close your eyes.” Lupan says terribly gentle. 

 

She closes her eyes, or perhaps they slip closed without her meaning to. The beeping is growing erratic and he has to hold her still, the staff is on standby in case they need to resuscitate her. He closes his own eyes, letting his magic flow into her soothingly, thrumming with crystalline clarity. Her shaking hand grips his tight, collapsing the soft fin he calls a hand between her fingers, he doesn’t mind.

 

“Remember when you played Peter Pan? Everyone came to see you.” he starts.

 

**_The school… play…_ **

**_...I remember..._ **

 

“Then you know that when it looked like Hook would win, Peter wasn’t scared. Because he believed with all his heart, that to die…”

 

**_Would be... an...awfully…b i g ...a d v e n t u r e..._ **

 

Lupan holds her a little tighter, for as long as he can, taking in all her fear, all her regret of not seeing enough of the world. He lets it wash over him, trickling over the parts of himself that are similar, staining them the deepest blue. He’s not sure to this day what it is he did to deserve this, but seeing the fear melt away from her face makes it worthwhile somehow. He can do this again and again, if even for just a second he can buy back their peace from the universe. The nurses push him away, one of them gives him a knowing look as Lupan's eyes follow the girl’s soul leaving her body. They try to revive her and though her heart stutters she doesn’t come back. 

 

She’s already taken sail somewhere far where fear can’t reach her.

 

Lupan steps out of the room, letting them do their job, doing his rounds as he waits for Ruthy’s parents to arrive. Somewhere at the edge of his perception there is a sharp hunger. He's never felt it himself, but he can take a guess at what it must be like. Was that what it was like for all the others? He thinks back on the monster that passed this burden onto him. This power had driven that monster mad, the voices piled up inside his head so that he couldn’t hear himself. He held back the hunger until it ate him alive, he all but  Fell right in front of Lupan. Lupan’s mother tried to save the monster, but he was already turning into ash. 

 

In that last moment, he gripped Lupan’s hand so tight. A light extinguished from his chest, but another burned blue, into Lupan’s own heart. Unlike that monster, Lupan understood his hunger, was empowered by it. His parents had taught him how to use his magic from a very young age, he studied it incessantly. They expected nothing but the best from him; another doctor in the family, another badge of excellence in their history. Finding this power was a gift, a fluke, that served only to enhance that purpose. This power was the pen and his effort but the ink, to write the story of his life, a story whose purpose was already clear in his mind.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

“Is that everything, then?” Papyrus looked around, his usual excitement tempered with politeness. It wouldn't do to act sad when everyone was already so worried.

 

“I think so.” Frisk nods.

 

“Oh sweetie, I’m going to miss you so terribly! Promise me you’ll call me at least once a week.” Mettaton wraps them in his arms and rubs his face against theirs. His magic is cloyingly sweet and bright, yet they can still feel his sadness in it.

 

“I promise.”

 

“It’s our last night together for a while, brother. Mettaton and I thought it best we spent it sharing the power of JOY AND FRIENDSHIP!” he threw his arm over Sans’ shoulders and pulled him closer to the others.

 

From the doorway, Jaques and the maids brought in a table covered in their favorite treats. The movie room was lit up with swiveling lights and smoke; and a karaoke stage was already set up on one end of the room. The first movie is Frisk’s request,  a Jim Carrey classic: The Mask. 

 

They sit together, eating, laughing and quoting their favorite parts. Mettaton could make a mean Tina Carlyle impression and Papyrus could belt out a great wolf whistle, even without lips. The husbands are extra loud that night, as if to stave off the bittersweet goodbye that awaited them the next morning. They sang, ate snacks and played board games. Besides the occasional joke, Sans remains quiet. Frisk on the other hand joins the fray wholeheartedly, more than willing to let the fun occupy the forefront of their mind for as long as they can.  

 

 

When they wake up the next morning, Papyrus and Mettaton are already up and running. They eat breakfast together, finish loading up the SUVs and stand at the door with them. because of his work Mettaton couldn’t see them off at the airport and was teary eyed, which was somehow worse than seeing him cry because it seemed much more genuine.

 

“We really need to do this again sometime;I had so much fun and I know you did too!” he leans down and pulls them off their feet in a hug. “Word of advice, don’t let Sans get away with everything so easily, make him work for it, sweetness!” he whispers before putting them down and fixing their clothes again. They reply with a nervous laugh and another hug.

 

“We will meet again soon, brother. Though I admit I’m really going to miss our movie nights, they’re not the same without you.” Papyrus says approaching Sans.

 

“Uh, me too, Paps. I’ll miss yer cookin.” he replies awkwardly, letting his brother scoop him up and spin him around before putting him down. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders high to cover his reddened face.

 

“Oh what the hell, just get over here!” Mettaton extends his arms and pulls both of the shorter skeletons close. He kisses both their cheeks with a loud, metallic smack and sways in the embrace. Papyrus joins the group hug, squeezing them tightly and giving skeleton kisses to the top of their skulls. It's about as embarrassing as it sounds, but it makes them both feel better.

 

“Your escort awaits! We must be going now! I will see you next week, my love!” 

 

Papyrus sweeps Mettaton into his arms, giving him a long kiss. Sans and Frisk take the chance to slip away before they are pulled into another bone crushing hug. Mettaton waves a handkerchief at them until they disappear beyond the main gates. The drive is mostly uneventful, Antoine and another guard are driving while Frisk and Sans make small talk in the back seat, avoiding the subject of the hosts for now.

 

Papyrus is waiting for them at the airport, their bags are checked and loaded as they pass security; then they make their way to the jet, followed by Antoine and the other guard. They’d sparred with her before but her name escapes them. She is a small monster whose face was always hidden inside a knight’s helmet. As Papyrus was seeing them off, Frisk turns to Antoine.

 

“Wait, Iet me say goodbye before we-” 

 

“Not to worry tiny skeleton. That won’t be necessary; since Mx. Scythes will be accompanying you on your journey!” Papyrus announced.

 

“Wait, really?...Really?!” Frisk looked between him and Antoine, who smiled wide in response, showing off the pincers in the corners of their mouth.

 

“Really, really. Being your bodyguard is my special assignment, remember?” they say, putting a hand on Frisk's shoulder. “Ms. Sallet here will also be going with us.” he extends a hand to the little knight, who bows before taking off on translucent wings and shaking their hand. 

 

“But isn’t that-? What about your family?” Frisk ask as Ms. Sallet and two other guards file into the plane with them.

 

“My siblings understand it’s my job. Besides, I couldn’t let you slack off on your training, now could I?” they wink at them with several eyes, Frisk can’t contain a smile.

 

“I will see you both in a month’s time! Take good care of each other; farewell and best of luck on your quest! Make sure they are safe Antoine!” Papyrus waved grandly at them, they all waved back.

 

“Will do, sir!” 

 

“Thank you for everything, Papyrus!” Frisk yelled.

 

“Yep, yer the best, bro. Plane and simple.” Sans did a mock salute with two fingers, wearing one of his shit eating grins. The last thing they heard before the plane’s door closed was Papyrus’ yelling.

  
  


 

 

Ika scrambled away, the claws gripped her tightly, plunging into her soft limbs. But her body was too pliable, she shot out a stream of ink. It covered one side of Dahlia's face and the cat like monster flinched, more in disgust than anything else. The claws squeezed harder and she slipped herself past a grate and into a duct. She wasn’t cut out for this, Ika thought, pushing faster as the pipe she was in shook with magic. She emerged in another alley, this one closer to the street. Ash was coating her tentacles and the inside of her mouth, she swallowed and ran faster, right into the headlights of an oncoming car.

 

The car screeched to a stop barely inches from her, she didn’t have it in her to be scared, using it instead to support herself. She only had eyes for the two green spots that reflected the light of the cars back at her from the alley. Liquid magic and ash came up her throat, she slid off the front of the car, vomiting over herself. A worried voice, warm and sweaty hands of flesh and bone. A human had saved her she realized, laughing at the strange turn of events before blacking out.

 

 

A jolt wakes her. A sparkle of recognition. It is so sharp, like crushed mint, a glass bell ringing. There is beeping, a soothing coolness around her, the smell of disinfectants. 

 

“You are awake then.” a young voice says, deep with knowledge and incongruous bitterness.  

 

“Guess...I am.” she replies voice coarse with ashes still.

 

“Drink.” Lupan places a cup to her mouth, she doesn’t need to be told twice.

 

“Why did you come here, then?” the young one says, as if continuing a conversation they’d started some time ago.

 

“I came...here...to find you...silly goose.”

 

“No, you came here to die.” He states plainly, she laughs at his precociousness. “So long as you’re here, I can’t let you do that. It’s my job to help.”

 

She creaks her eye open, his eyes are locked on hers, they are so very blue. He clearly thinks he knows everything, must be the gift of youth.

 

“Then help me...rest, like you do...the others.” 

 

Lupan steps off the stool he was standing on to reach the bed.  

 

“I help the ones that need rest. You’re not dying, Ika.”

 

“We’re...all dying...silly goose.” she smiles at him, unable to tell if his expression has changed under all that cloth.

 

Her thoughts are a mess, but Lupan can see the fear in her clearly. She wants to live. He shakes his head slightly and leaves her be. For the next few days he steps into her room while on his rounds. She tries to strike conversation, but he only stays there long enough for her to recharge her magic by absorbing his. In just two weeks she’s back to perfect health, or as perfect as it can get with a ninety something year old lady.

 

“You are better now. Soon it will be time for you to leave.” Lupan says for what feels like the hundredth time.

 

“I can’t do that until I get what I came for, goose, you know that. You have to take my soul to Mettaton and his skele-hubby.”

 

“I will not take your soul.” 

 

“You will. I saw it already, it has to be.” she responds, like she always does. 

 

“Then you saw wrong. Good day.”

 

 

Lupan can hear it in her thoughts, he can feel it for himself too. Dahlia is very close, stalking them; she will most likely attack in the following days. In Ika’s vision it is late night, they are outside, at the very edge of the hospital’s grounds near the woods. He continues to ignore the hunter. So long as she doesn’t target his patients, it’s none of his business what she does. What he’s doing here is too important to let anyone hinder it, something only he can do. 

 

Lupan can’t let this power fall into the wrong hands. This was his burden, his retribution for whatever he’d done wrong. Once his price was paid his parents would love him without conditions. He’d build a better life, a meaningful one, where he’d reap the rewards of all his discipline and continue to help others until he died...he’d be happy. He’d finally be worthy of all the good things in life that never came for free. 

 

 

The old lady was at least right about some things. Dahlia did attack at night, in the exact spot he saw in her mind. The cat-like monster seemed surprised to see him there, but didn’t immediately flee. Perhaps something had changed since they’d last met, made her bolder and stupider. She lunged at him, faster than anything he’d ever experienced. He managed to leap over her, seeing her skid to a halt and take aim. But he was in his element, easily dodging all the projectiles she launched at him in mid air. As always, he was too fast, too small of a target.

 

She is experienced and powerful, but unlike her, he is calm and in control, attacking her with the curious cruelty only a child can muster. He slices at her with his razor sharp fins, spinning this way and that; moving fast, sometimes jumping off her body to dodge and attack. He can hear her viciousness inside his own head, her desperation. She purposefully pushes her thoughts into his mind, as if it to convince him or make him doubt, but he doesn’t falter. Just like he won’t flinch if he has to deliver a fatal blow.

 

He has no mercy for monsters like her.

 

Dahlia is aware of this, her attacks start off strong but she will tire quickly if she continues like this. So now she prowls, slowly assessing him, feeding him a barrage of reasonings and threats in an attempt to distract him while she figures out how to attack. But it isn’t her mind that does it, it’s Ika’s. She rushes out of nowhere, her garbled thought process registering as nothing more than white noise to him until she’s close enough for him to hear it, sharp and clear. The thought that drove her to stay here: the complete vision of her death. She stands there, with clarity and purpose, waiting for him to kill her, to use her soul to kill Dahlia. Because it was written, because she believes it is right and she had accepted her fate, long before she’d met him..

 

 

**_-I know you do the right thing, goose. I’m ready now, for one...awfully big adventure.-_ ** she projects at him, knowing he can hear her.

 

“You must truly be crazy...to think I would ever hurt you. Now, go back inside.” he states, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder.

 

“Goose…” Ika is crying with a relief that disgusts her, still standing at the edge of her fear and the desire for freedom. 

 

Freedom from fate.

 

In that brief moment of distraction, Dahlia throws a golden bullet through his chest. He’s flung through the air, landing roughly and skidding to a stop before regaining his footing. For the first time in years the taste of ash fills his mouth; he shudders at the memory of his training before he regains his composure. He leaps over Ika’s head, shoving her behind him to land between her and Dahlia. This time he flicks his arms like whips at her legs, tripping her and slashing at her face and tail when she topples. She rolls into a crouch, a huge stinger emerging from her tail to strike at him.

 

After hitting the floor Ika finally scrambles away, screaming for help all the while, Dahlia tries to shoot after her but he doesn’t give her time, flinging sharp slivers of magic at her. She turns her claws on him, he dodges and slashes at Dahlia’s flanks again, she hisses in frustration.

 

“This ain’t your business. Get outta mah way!”

 

“She’s my patient.” he responds fiercely, blocking her again. She’s finally slowed down to a more manageable speed.

 

“Nah, she a parasite and ya know it. Pretty hypocritical of ya to keep her ‘round all yer other ‘patients’…Ya know she’s gonna suck their magic away, right?” she smiles at him, he ignores her in favor of attacking, aiming to sever her tail. He cuts her deeply, but not deep enough. This close, and with her so desperate he finally hears it. A hint of truth behind the sleek trickery.

 

**_\- I cAn’t Die hEre, nOt UnTiL I SaVe tHem!-_ **

 

“You’re lying to yourself. Doing this won’t save anyone.”

 

“Ya don’t know what ya sayin’!”  **_\- I’m goNnA haVe to KiLL him! FuCK!-_ **

 

“You don’t have to do this.” he says simply.

 

She won't let herself even consider it, not now. Dahlia growls and attacks again, but this time he has no distractions, Ika has finally run away. He has no concerns but to maim this stubborn monster until she stops this nonsense. She dodges, weaving back and forth, using her hands and tail to block his blows, backing into the trees. Sirens start to blare somewhere, she has to retreat but he won’t let her, slashing at her legs and tail to slow her down. With one insane rush she runs into his whip-like arm, feeling the damage to her soul, though it passes through her body as she makes a break for it. He tangles her tail in his arm but she speeds off and the momentum tears him from her as she disappears into the woods.  

 

Lupan stares after Dahlia for a moment, hearing the frantic cacophony of her mind fade from his own. He pulls off his cowl and spits a mix of magic and ash on the grass. Guarding his patients came first, but she was a liability, so he promised himself not to hold back next time he met her. By the time he made it back inside Ika wasn’t there anymore, she must have escaped in the mess of staff running around when the authorities arrived. The old lady was a fool, but perhaps so was he, for wanting to change her ways when he couldn’t even change his own.   


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting, and for reading this far. I'm very happy to have slowly overcome my reader's block or in a way lack direction with the following chapters. Though everything is mapped out, connecting the dots gets more difficult when you are so excited to just get to the giant twist that waits over the rainbow. But there's some things that gotta happen before then so i'm finally getting to it, almost finished with that accursed chapter 38, though its so long at this point I may have to split it into two. 
> 
> I said fifty but it might go as far as 60 if i want to leave these chapters at a manageable length, I hope you're enjoying the story and see it to the end, it would mean a lot to me. 
> 
> Thanks and I hope to see you all in the next one! 
> 
> (o・w・o)/


	37. Maybe I was wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans starts getting into the habit of talking about the things that bother him and so does Flowey.

He sits at a familiar bar, lit in warm firelight; the constant chatter and laughter drones over the record player in the corner. From his side, a sweet laugh makes pleasure curl at the bottom of his ribcage. He turns to see them grinning at him whilst eating fries. He takes in their features, the soft tanned skin and uneven dimples. He looks away hiding a smile, makes another joke; they laugh in delight, the sound is both strange and wonderful. 

 

When he turns back there is a small yellow flower over their ear. He picks it off with a frown, they look confused. He shrugs it off, but when he blinks there’s more yellow spattered on their hair and cheek. He grabs their shoulders, they scrunch their nose in confusion then smile. Every time he closes his eyes there’s more of them, his left eye burns like fire. He pushes off the counter and takes off with them.

 

He slams the door open and they run, yellow petals tearing off behind them. The buttercups spread on their face, but they seem to be in no hurry, he tries to run but they are walking calmly. They stumble. He screams their name, suddenly choking on his own emotion. They are being overwhelmed but they keep talking to him in their gentle voice, like nothing’s wrong. Their body falls limp into his arms, he’s weeping now. He holds them tight, shaking, as the plants cover everything but their mouth.

 

They bring a yellow hand to his face, his red tears run down their fingers. 

 

“I d-didn’t hear...w-what is it sweetheart? Talk to me!” 

 

He can’t understand them, even with the side of his skull pressed against their lips. A red heart hovers next to his eyes, trying to escape their chest, he cradles its pulsing life in his hands, keeping it in place.

 

“Sweetheart...don’t go...I need you...I lo-” 

 

Their hands wrench his head to face them, so hard it hurts. He looks into the flowers where their eyes used to be, hurting when he sees thin trails of blood pouring from them.

 

I f y o u l o v e d m e 

 

He chokes, as more blood spills from their mouth.

 

W h y d i d y o u l e t m e g o ?

 

Their mouth hangs open, flowers grow from their throat and spill out filling his vision. He doesn’t know what to do and while the flowers consume their body he screams like a dying animal. When all the gold withers and falls away, he’s holding a skeleton in his arms, a single yellow flower growing out of their eye. The heart in their ribcage gradually turns upside down, gold light seeping into it…

Until all the red is gone. 

 

Though they’d never heard him scream, Frisk recognizes Sans' voice immediately. They scramble off their bed in a tangle, magic at the ready as they burst through their bedroom door. Antoine is coming from the opposite side of the hall and they exchange a look before the guard pulls the door open. Sans is sitting on his bed, the claws of one hand caught in his eye socket that’s covered in dark red and blue flames.

“SANS!”

Frisk's eyes dart around the room, only to realize it's empty. After one last look around Antoine excuses themselves politely and pats Frisk’s shoulder, leaving them alone. Here the nights are filled with the sounds of the swamp, so that crickets and frog song mask the gasps he makes as his magic steadies. They walk slowly to his bed, he grumbles an excuse and curls over, with his back to them. Frisk sits on the bed, looking down at him, unable to ignore the jagged thrum of his soul. They place a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back comfortingly. 

He’s shaking.

“Do you want to talk?” they ask after he’s calmer. 

He shakes his head. 

“That’s alright. Do you want to get some hot chocolate, watch some tv?” 

He shrugs.

“Okay, I’ll get the snacks ready, come on.” they nudge him gently, he rolls over, sockets dark

Frisk smiles at him, pretending they don’t see his tears. Friends don’t need pity, they wouldn’t like it if Sans pitied them, so they’re there with him instead of for him. They pull him out of bed by the arm and lead the way to the couch, turn on the tv, get some hot chocolate and cookies. They talk about their online courses, about the classmates they’ve befriended and the games Flowey has made them download. He nods every now and then, not saying anything, but after a while his eye lights make a reappearance.

“I dreamt about ya.” he says out of nowhere.

“Oh...Really? W-what was it about?” 

“Dunno, my head’s a mess. I’m guessing it was ‘bout what happened years ago...with the flowers.” he glances down at their hand now tightening on his arm.

“I’m sorry.” they say.

“What for? ‘S not yer fault.” 

“I just wish you didn’t...I wish it didn’t hurt that bad anymore.” they pull him into a hug and he leans against them limply. Their words confuse him, but the comfort they offer is irresistible. Sans feels slightly sickened at the familiar fizzle of joy that goes down his spine. It reminds him of that dream, but it is so much sharper in reality. He’s grown dangerously close, he knows that, but he can’t help himself.

Frisk feels him tense for a moment and runs their hands over his back and skull, trying to reassure him like he’d done for them so many times before. They don’t want to imagine how many times he woke up like this and didn’t have anyone there. They’re fortunate to have him take such good care of them, so returning the favor is the least they can do.

“About the flowers, they don’t bother me anymore. I’m alright now and I...want you to be alright too. Whenever you feel like something’s wrong, talk to me. I’m always right here, so just talk to me.” they snuggle into his shoulder, soothed by the way their skulls rub together. Sans hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything more than a very quiet ‘Thank you’.

 

After they let go, they watch TV until he starts to snore. Frisk leaves the TV on while they put the dishes away and fetch some blankets. Then they settle down next to him, watching his head bob against his chest; feeling glad they could put him at ease for now. Their own chest aches remembering Bliz, saying almost the same words of support to them back then. Bliz really meant them, and so do they now. If only they were as strong as Sans maybe…  
Frisk shakes their head, that line of thought always led to heartache, there was nothing they could’ve done, no matter how very much they wanted to. 

 

Things were different now anyway. The distance did them well, they felt safer in New Orleans, so far away from Dahlia, MT.Ebbot and their old memories. The same couldn’t be said for the skeleton next to them, Sans carried his troubles wherever he went, like an evil talisman no one could pry from his hands. Frisk wanted to see Sans settle into happiness, like Papyrus and Mettaton had; rather than keep catching the remnants of the past peeking out uglily from under his nonchalance. It was getting harder to pretend they didn’t see the tension he always seemed to have right under the surface. But it would be even harder to confront him, when they knew that in order for him to change that he’d have to let go of the past. 

 

If they were honest, neither of them were ready for that yet.

 

 

“I think it’s time you took a break, doc.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that because you don’t know how much stuff I still have to do.” Alphys sighs, massaging the dent her glasses had left on her face.

“I say that because I know how much you still have left to do. You’re going to need the rest if you want to do this right.” Flowey says, pulling her hands away from the keyboard. 

“I know, I know.” she concedes, but stays glued to her chair.

“If you don’t take a nap right now, I’m telling on you!” he warns.

“Noooo, don’t start…” she whines.

He wags his tiny eyebrows meaningfully. “I didn’t start it, but I know who can finish it.”

 

Alphys ignores him along with her blush and heads over to the living room, he scuttles after her on his drone. After updating the king on her findings, her nerves finally give out; she barely manages to make it to the couch before her tiredness catches up. By the time she wakes too many hours have passed for this to still be considered a nap and she finds that someone’s thrown a blanket over her. 

“Oh, hey, you’re up! I made you nerds some brunch; packed it up just in case you wanna take it to the lab. I’m gonna go do my rounds, be back in an hour.”  
The way Undyne has learned to lower her voice occasionally; and how delicately she manages to make bentos just for her, fill Alphys’ soul with warmth. 

“Thank you, Undyne. I’ll, um, see you later, then!” 

“Yeah, see ya!” she grins, a fiercely honest baring of teeth, before she dashes off to the exit.

Alphys stares after her longingly, these past few months they’ve rekindled their friendship; but there is also an unspoken acknowledgement that this is a fresh start for them. A chance to have an honest relationship even if they don’t necessarily end up as anything else...

Flowey peeks his head out from the kitchen, making kissy faces at her. She can't believe it gets to her, making her blush darker. She settles at the table and ignores him, though the fact he waited to eat with her is kind of sweet. The bento is both cute and delicious; she hums happily to herself while she eats. Flowey chews loudly on his own box set of waffles, boiled eggs and fruit, then starts talking about his memories. Inevitably their conversation spirals into the subject of the old lab. Practice and Flowey’s ability to remain unimpressed by pretty much anything, have made it easier to talk about, it almost doesn’t scare her anymore.

“So that bonehead was actually a pretty big deal, then?”

“Yes, Sans was the best, really. The only other monster I knew back then that was smarter than him w-was the Royal Scientist, Dr. Gaster.” she replies.

“So you remember that about the old fart too?”

“Hey that’s mean! And yes, I do. It’s hard to remember all of him, but I’m sure he was a genius.” she says, with the kind of awe she usually reserves for fictional characters. Flowey can’t contain a snort.

“Yeah, a mad genius. The guy was nuttier than squirrel poop...Hope Sans doesn’t take after him. Do you think Sans knows about all the ‘stuff’ he did down there?” 

“I don’t think you should ask him about it!” she says sternly, the flower stares at her, a little taken aback. “Sorry, it’s just not something Sans likes to talk abou.; I don’t even like talking about it. The doctor...he was the only one who really wasn’t afraid t-to do what was n-needed to help monsterkind. He didn't just try to, um, break the barrier he also did everything he could to make our lives down there better. He just wanted to help everyone, I’m sure of it!” she says fervently, seeing his expression.

“Alright, alright. Gee, what isn’t a touchy subject with you people? I understand why you admired him, but even you have to admit: the guy did some pretty evil stuff.” he frowns pointedly.

“...We all did. I-it w-wasn’t-” she sighs, pausing to get her stammering under control. “We did what we could, Flowey. What else could we have done? Because we had the knowledge to make things better, w-we had to try! How can you know so much and not do something about it? That would really be evil.”

“So you think he felt responsible? That he broke a few monsters to save a few thousand? Do you really think he had such noble intentions? That the good doctor felt bad for me and let me out on purpose? Or was it because he didn’t want his precious experiment to go to waste after he’d kicked the bucket?” he smiles sarcastically, shaking his head and shrugging.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure; I don’t know what he felt. But I know how I felt and it’s...it wasn’t easy. There wasn’t much we could do but we tried, we tried to help even when it seemed like there was nothing to do, he was part of the reason we survived down there so long...I could help you look into it. I know he did some research on these flowers which might explain what, um, happened.”

“You mean find out why he made me, isn’t that right?” his smile turns frightening, body stretching menacingly, but just as quickly he loses momentum and shrinks tiredly. “I don’t care if he had good intentions, what he did was twisted. I don't need you to tell me that...Do you think Sans knew about me?” 

“...I don’t think so, he would have said something if he did. We’ve been talking a lot and he hasn’t mentioned anything. Either way he’s almost done with the program to translate Gaster’s notes, so we can find out by ourselves then.”

“Yeah right, you know Sans is a secret hoarder and way better at keeping his skeletons shoved into his closet than you are. He’s such a trashbag sometimes…” he sounds like a petulant child, but there is some actual venom to his voice. He resents Sans for not trusting him and seeing that reminds Alphys of how her own tendency to lie makes others feel. She’s once again grateful for following Mettaton’s advice, things would have gone very differently if she were still holding onto her secret.

“Sans, he, um, really cares about you. He’s, heh, bone headed but he cares an awful lot about his friends. He wouldn’t hide anything if he knows it would hurt you.” 

“He would if he thinks telling me the truth would hurt more, I mean, look at what he did to Frisk.”

“Don’t you mean what you both did? You could’ve told them the truth.” she says evenly, Flowey laughs bitterly. 

“Yeah, but if I’d told them, it would’ve been like betraying Sans...I didn’t want him to think I was manipulating Frisk or throwing him under the bus. It wasn’t my secret to tell in the first place.” 

“I understand, I really do, it’s just...I know Sans wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose. He was never... l-like Gaster, is what I’m trying to say.” 

“I kind of already knew that, doc.” 

“Yes, but sometimes I get the feeling you think Sans will turn into Dr. Gaster e-eventually.” she adjusts her glasses, with a serious look.

“Wouldn’t you doubt him too? After everything he did, aren’t you scared to trust someone that was so close to him? I am. So, are they different or not?”

“Of course they are! Gaster was kind but too shrewd; he knew freeing everyone was more important than anything else a-and he acted on it. But Sans is...he’s the kind of guy who holds everything in, tries to carry everyone’s problems, even if he can’t handle it. He’d rather b-be crushed under all the problems than let his loved ones get their hands dirty.”

“So he gets them dirty himself, he can be such an idiot sometimes…” he says, smiling fondly this time. Alphys tries to give him a disapproving look, but it doesn’t come out right when she half agrees with his observation.

“I-its more than that though. He's just... He always looks out for other monsters. When we worked under Gaster h-he volunteered for a lot of the experiments. We weren’t sure if some of our test subjects were...sentient or not, so Sans took their pla-” Flowey’s eyes widen. “Oh kuso! I-I didn’tmeanto-I-I thoughtyouknew!” she stammers, realizing her blunder.

“Calm down, doc. I was already suspicious about it, it’s not really a surprise, I mean the guy’s got laser spitting skulls and he teleports. I don’t care what kind of science you’re into that is not normal!” 

When she sees her wringing her hands, his tone becomes gentler and he pats her arm reassuringly. “ I know old holey hands was trying to break the barrier and he went about it in a lot of…creative ways. It figures he wasn’t squeamish about experimenting on his kids.” 

“Please, please don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s fine, he knows I was in the lab, I could’ve found out by myself if I hadn’t been so busy being a smartmouth. I always figured there’s a reason he’s so short and has super powers. I guess the comics were right: the answer is always radiation.” he waves his leaves dramatically.

Alphys snorts in surprise before breaking into a laugh, he smiles at her and the mood returns to it’s usual relaxed tone. After they finish talking, she takes a shower and greets Undyne when she returns from her rounds. They end up sharing some tea while the guardswoman takes a well-deserved break. Flowey starts talking about the old Underground, bringing up the few things he missed from that time. This causes Alphys and Undyne to get caught up reminiscing and he suddenly has an ‘urgent gaming meeting’ to attend. He excuses himself, but not before sending Alphys an exaggerated wink. The blush that creeps into her face and the hilarious stuttering she makes are enough to make Flowey’s day.

 

 

Falling asleep in front of the television wasn’t exactly a good habit, Frisk mused. Even though they couldn’t get sore from sleeping awkwardly, the ensuing grogginess was definitely off putting. They felt literally glued to the couch, like they wouldn’t be able to leave it even if they wanted to, it was such a comfy couch after all....

A snore startles them, keeping them from going back to sleep, they glare at Sans who’s strewn over their shoulder and chest with his mouth hanging open. He’s so close they can smell the chocolate in his breath, he’s drooled on their shirt a bit. Too tired to be grossed out, they take the chance to poke at his teeth: they’re not as sharp as they thought. Since poking his face does nothing to wake him up, Frisk resorts to shuffling until they slip from underneath him. Only now their arm is trapped between his ribs and the evil couch.

Time for extreme measures. 

Frisk considers tickling him, but they don’t want to wake him from what is clearly a blissful sleep, so instead they summon a few bones and prop him up, just enough to get away. He grumbles in his sleep, frowning; they rub his shoulder until he calms down and continues snoring, then they head off to get breakfast ready. Frisk leaves some food at the kitchen for the guards and are carrying a tray into the living room when they see her face.  
Dahlia is on the news again.

They set the food at the table in front of the couch and watch. She’s in Iowa now and has attacked a hospital for some reason. Could she have found another host there or was she attacking at random? Only one monster and two humans had been hurt, the humans were security guards and the monster an employee from the hospital that confronted her. They feel bad for them but at the same time a fierce hope grows in their chest. Someone had fought her and lived; which meant she wasn’t invincible. One day they will be strong enough to fight her too and that thought fuels their resolve.

“Whassat?...Hmm, smells good.” Sans grumbles groggily, they change the channel. He’ll find out later anyway, Papyrus always kept them up to date. Right now Sans needed to get his mind off these things.

“It’s your favorite, eat up.” they hand him a plate of bacon omelette, toast and a cup of tomato juice.

“Thanks.” The tired, but gentle smile he gives them makes their determination flourish.

They’ve already decided to do what they can to become strong enough to fight by his side. Even if they still don’t trust each other completely, Frisk can’t stop believing in that light they see in him sometimes. They’d make sure he’d be able to rely on them soon enough. Not long after breakfast, Antoine walks in so they can start their training for the day. They put their dishes in the sink and change into their workout clothes, surprisingly Sans follows. 

 

Though he is clearly tired, he goes through the entire routine and they’re glad to spar with him. Frisk learns so much now that he doesn’t treat them like they’re made of glass. The fact Antoine has never treated them as such also helps, since it’s always great to fight without holding back. Just knowing it now takes the guard at least three minutes to knock them down is a testament to their progress: the first time they sparred it’d taken five seconds. 

Frisk is following the guard and Papyrus' advice of tiring their opponent out by using their excellent dodging skills, since their offensive is still average at best. The morning passes and Antoine doesn’t mention what happened last night, something both Sans and Frisk can appreciate. In the afternoon both skeletons sit down and talk about it. Frisk hopes that with time, talking about their troubles would become just as habitual as sparring. How they were slowly learning to speak more openly was certainly helpful.

“ ‘S not new, I had stuff like that happen before, just...It’d been a while.” Sans admits.

“Where the dreams about the same thing?” 

“Nah, not really. Before the barrier It was mostly ‘bout the resets. What I did and what I let happen to ya.” there’s an awkward silence before he adds: “The flowers didn’t scare the shit out of me before, if that’s what yer askin’.”

“I-no-that’s not...That’s not what I meant. Well it is sort of, but I mean, did your magic always…?” they gesture vaguely to their chest, both unable to find the words and unwilling to say the ones that come to mind.

“Act out?”

“That’s one way to put it...Isn’t it hurting?” they politely keep their eye on his, but he knows what they mean. 

The strain last night had exacerbated the scar in his soul, the one they’d left all those years ago. It gapes just a little wider, the light inside his soul flickering slower through it.

“...it is, fer now. But it ain’t gonna get any worse or anything, so it’s fine.” Sans waves his hand lazily and turns away. He doesn’t want them examining it, he knows what he’s doing. He won’t break this time.

“But it’s still there. Couldn’t we try to heal it? I read that-”

“Nope.”

“What?” Frisk gawks at him, for some reason he is smiling. It’s a weird smile they haven’t seen on his face before.

“That’s not fer you to fix, kiddo. It’s something I gotta do myself.”

“But I want to-”

“Not gonna let ya.” he’s still smiling as he pokes their cheek. 

His expression makes Frisk’s magic spark against their chest and rise to their cheeks. That smile is all his. It’s a confident smile, they realize with no small amount of surprise. It suits him. It’s Sans just being Sans; grouchy, protective, funny, caring Sans. They know they won’t forget this new smile and will try to bring it out of him as much as they can from now on. He raises a brow bone at them when they don’t reply.

“Fine!....Fine. I get it, I’m not trying to solve your problems for you. But you don’t have to deal with everything alone. So don’t keep holding all of this stuff inside. I want to be here with you, and I’m gonna be here even when you don’t want me to be!” 

They grumpily pull him into their arms and squeeze him tight. He laughs at the suddenness and hugs them back fiercely, enjoying the comfort they offer him as if it would run out if he lets go.

Luckily for him, it doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think anyone's noticed but a good number of the chapter titles are bits of lyrics from songs that I find fit the story. For those who listened to the playlist i linked they know what I'm talking about. This one was brief but it felt right to end it there as in the next chapters a lot of stuff will happen. I unexpectedly enjoyed writing Alphys and Flowey talking, he's one of the few character that easily bounces off the others and makes for interesting conversation, because he's bratty but also ancient and that contrast is fun to explore. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this one despite the rather irregular update schedule, we're still at one or two chaps per week, though I'm not sure I can make em all for Sunday since now I'm mostly doing chores or artwork those days. 
> 
> Either way lemme know if you enjoyed it, what you'd like to see, what you don't like and what could improve, as you can tell I love to talk/write...both. 
> 
> See ya on the next one!


	38. Catching and releasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk, Sans and the guards go out to hunt for their host, going down a list of colorful suspects hoping to find the one that carries a human soul...

 

  
  


Wallace walks into the bathroom, so small he'd bump his elbows on the walls if he took a step in the wrong direction. It's dark and damp here and the smell of monster dust, from both the living and dead lingers. He washes his hands absentmindedly, trying not to take in the smell; her smell, turned sour and dry. This wasn't supposed to happen, she wasn't supposed to be there. He didn't know what was going on anymore.

 

Why was she at that hospital? And why did she fight? Why did she always have to fight?

 

They couldn't spend much time together, he was already being watched, but he just had to know. Her vague explanations weren't enough to go by, not enough to help her, just not enough for him. He wasn't the kind to give or take things without questions, he'd left that behind in the house he'd shared with his sister. He couldn’t go back to being that little kid anymore, the kind that believes anything you tell him, Wallace knew better now. So it wasn't out of spite that he mistrusted Dahlia, it was out of love. Any love that's blind is a sick one, while a true love is only as true as it is strong enough to face the truth.

And his love was indeed strong.

 

With that in mind he goes back to the room,  soul lurching painfully when he sees her body on the bed. Her tail is on a splint, barely attached; her face grayish, and her legs covered in deep, clean cuts. The rest was magical damage, so severe the monster who found her body hadn't noticed her until he’d stepped on her. For the upteen time Wallace wishes it had been someone else that found her, then again someone else would’ve called the police.

 

It was the first time he was grateful to a gang member, and hopefully the last. As if the fact Dahlia left them to sign up for a reform program and join the Guard wasn't enough, the lawyer who advised her to do so had become her lover. Just for that Wallace was already on their blacklist; plus the fact he openly blamed them for what was happening to Dahlia didn’t exactly help. The monster that found her had nursed her here, in this hideout; he proposes they let her wake before they hunt down the monster that hurt her. 

 

Wallace shakes his head, takes off his glasses and wipes Dahlia’s dust off of them bitterly. The only reason he didn't call the police on Tommy was because he'd saved her life and that already felt like a bad decision. The gangster seems annoyed by his silence and crosses his arms in a way that anyone else would've considered intimidating, Wallace knew better. Tommy Katz's magic was delicate and precise, used to pick locks and make machinery malfunction, he couldn't kill as easily as Dahlia, but he certainly liked to think so.

 

"We won't do anything like that. We don't even know why they were fighting in the first place.  There’s no point in giving the police any more reasons to chase her...I want to wait until she’s better and we can find out more abo-”

 

“Find out wha exactly? You blind?! This little shit tried to kill ‘er!” Tommy’s deep voice is becoming a roar when a groan from Dahlia interrupts him. His ears flatten to his head and he continues in a low hiss. “I found ‘er layin face down behind a goddamn trashcan, ashes everywhere! And yer tellin’ me to wait? What kind of coward does tha shit? Some mate you turned out ta be.”

 

Wallace knows better than to argue, but the comment still irks him and Tommy’s a convenient target to vent his frustration on. “They didn’t attack her out of nowhere. I need to know what she was doing th-”

 

“Wha? Like it’s her fault? Are ya fuckin kidding me? She has a bounty on ‘er head! ‘Course anyone who needs the cash would take a shot at ‘er!”

 

“She knows that, which is why she’s been hiding this whole time, but if  _ they _ attacked  _ her _ how did she end up all the way in Iowa?” He doesn’t even want to think it,  but it’s true. The heavy silence that follows those words tell him that Tommy knows this too. But unlike Wallace Tommy doesn’t care why she was there, only that she got hurt and there’s someone to blame for it. 

 

“Whatever she’s doing, I’m backing her up, I don’t care what it is. ‘S the least I can do for ‘er...the least you can do too.” the cat grumbles spitefully.

 

Before Wallace can argue back Dahlia starts to stir. They glare at each other and put aside the argument for now, the rabbit walks over to her, he holds her hand gently, trying not to cause her any more pain. Her bleary eyes focus on him and she smiles a little; the anger in him melts and he sags with exhaustion and fear for her. He wants to believe in her, but he’s scared of how easily he trusts her. Despite the fear he trusts her, and despite the trust he still doubts her. Not because he doesn’t trust her enough; but because he loves her enough to know when his trust is misplaced. 

  
  
  


 

 

Frisk’s dreams in these last two weeks have been rather repetitive, their journal entries have become updates on any new details within the same pattern. The vivid, haunting dreams mingled with memories and symbolisms are now interspersed with more common dreams. Dreams of watching movies with Papyrus and Mettaton, of training with Antoine,  talking to Sans and other silly things. These were oddly bland by comparison, but slowly they begin to enjoy them. Unpredictable, pointless perhaps, but free of the burden of having any crucial information hidden within. In these plainly colored dreams there were no missing memories to hunt for and  they could just be. 

 

They slept better on those nights and a part of them feels a little guilty because of it. Their memories are still incomplete, still broken, they shouldn’t rest until they find them all. But nobody seems to mind, no body tries to pry out of them any more than what they already had to give; so for the time being they let it be and began to fill their journal with something other than snippets of memories pulled out of dreams. 

 

Now Frisk fills its pages with the exercises Sylvia gave them and all the new memories they didn’t want to forget. Like Sans’ rainbow quiche being their favorite food, Papyrus’ tips for making great pasta, Mettaton's beauty tips for skeletons, everyone’s birthday, Flowey’s favorite videogames and the wifi password. There are drawings in it too, and pictures of them and Sans, of Mettaton, of their old apartment, of the mansion, the skeleton brothers, Antoine and Jaques, Flowey and Toriel, even some of Bliz. This journal is getting filled quicker than the previous one and somehow the thought is exciting, it makes them feel like they were making progress; but whether or not that’s true is still to be seen. 

 

“Hey kid, Paps wants to talk to ya.” Sans knocks on the open door of their room and lets himself in. 

 

“Okay, gimme a second.”

 

“Done.” he grins like he’s being funny. Frisk suppresses their smile because egging him on is never a good idea.

 

“You know what I mean.” They finish their entry, close the journal and straighten their shirt, as if Papyrus could tell they’d been lazing about all morning, just by looking. Which he probably could.

 

“Greetings tiny skeleton! I have great news for you. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AND HIS AMAZING GUARDS HAVE BROUGHT OUR MISSION ONE STEP CLOSER TO IT’S INEVITABLE RESOUNDING SUCCESS!” Papyrus’ face greets them projected from the handlink, the image shakes whenever he speaks, as if unable to handle his exuberance or his volume. 

 

“Good morning, Papyrus...that’s great?” 

 

“What’d you do bro?” Sans smiles knowingly at Frisk, pulling them over to the couch and sitting close, so they both fit in the frame of the projector.

 

“Well you see after a thorough investigation I managed to secure our escaped host and-”

 

“Actually...” The phone turns abruptly and Ika’s face takes up the entire screen. “I let him catch me!” She whispers loudly, cupping her mouth conspiratorially.

 

“Lady, what the hell?” Sans growls startled, it makes Frisk laugh.

 

“That is most certainly-” 

 

“True.” she interrupts Papyrus. “I let the Miles catch me, poor boy was fired if he didn’t, or maybe not. It’s not written anymore. I came back you see! I escapes it!”

 

“Unhand my handlink! You’ll have your turn, but this is NOT proper video calling etiquette!” Papyrus shouts in the background but is unable to get his phone from her. The other two skeletons wait, not even bothering to hide their laughter as they watch the show. Finally Papyrus manages to catch her and sits with Ika held tightly at his side. She squirms like a petulant kid and waves at Frisk with a bandaged tentacle, before retelling the story of her ‘capture’.  

 

 

After she ran from the battle Ika was in a terrible confusion, for the second time in her life she’d tried to alter the outcome of one of her visions. Granted it wasn’t her choice at first, Lupan’s intervention definitely played a part, but new pathways had opened up before her sight at his actions. Visions of the various futures that just one action could create, there were always many branches, even if most were hard to see. They were proof that there was always another option than the one most readily available.  It was as she ran that she came to a life-altering conclusion: fate was not set in stone and her powers were not infallible. After nearly forty years of following visions like a doctrine until it nearly drove her insane, she realized it had been her choice all along; and that her choices could indeed make a difference.

 

Then it was just a matter of making her choices count. 

 

Following her visions Ika found her way to Capt. Miles, helping him redeem himself as he brought her back into Papyrus’ custody. The rest had just been shenanigans; trying to keep her contained, realizing it was almost impossible and eventually settling into something like house arrest combined with daycare. They realized she was actually very easy to get along with, so long as you let her have her way. Papyrus had grown fond of her and along with a few other guards took care of her in his house, where they waited for Alphys to return to Mt. Ebbot in order to take Ika into her ‘Human Soul Host’ research. In the meantime they now had an extra monster to protect, one less host for Dahlia to capture and a powerful, if not quite crazy ally. 

  
  


 

 

For Frisk, the days following Ika’s capture are a mix of training and studying for exams. The online courses have been a great way to structure their time and help them beat back the depressive fact they are practically on house arrest and running for their lives. Through their classes they manage to make more friends, some of which they call often and even play with online. Frisk is not as skilled as Flowey, or even Sans, but they can hold their own and what they lack in skill they make up for in enthusiasm. More than the games themselves, they enjoy the opportunity it gives them to interact with other people so freely.

 

During one of their campaigns Ms. Sallet flutters up to Frisk and tries to get their attention, tapping one of her tiny feet impatiently. They finish the fight quickly, cheering loudly with their team mates when they defeat the other team in the dungeon. Not willing to keep her waiting they say a quick goodbye and their friends make a show of their disappointment urging them to come back. Frisk laughs happily, having only Sans and Flowey as their only friends for so long had almost made them forget how it feels to spend time with other people.

 

"Mx. Frisk, the boss has informed us that we shall begin the host search this Thursday. The parade of next week will keep the town’s attention on the city and we will blend in easily."

 

Like the other monsters she has an accent, and Frisk thinks it’s adorable when she speaks so stiffly. They thank her and go looking for Sans to share the good news. They find him in his bedroom, fixing a handlink server; they stare, mesmerized by how he carefully manipulates the small pieces with his hands and his magic. Unlike Frisk, Sans can leave the safehouse but, either out of respect or paranoia, he doesn't. They know it takes a toll on him, he hates being locked up, but the gesture of sympathy is appreciated.

 

 

"What's up kiddo?" He asks, glancing up and holding all the pieces in the air still for a moment.

 

"Nothing, just Ms. Sallet was saying that we're ready to start looking for hosts now. We're going to go out on Friday for the first one."

 

"Yeah? Well, tell Ms. Salty Salad to lettuce get to it already." Sans smiles at their annoyed face.

 

"I told you her name is Celty! Don't mess with her Sans it isn't nice."

 

"I'm not messing with her." He's actually messing with Frisk.

 

"Yeah you are, you said Salty Salad, I know you did. It's Celty Sallet. When she kicks your butt in training tomorrow I'm going to laugh." 

 

"That seems awfully heartless of you. I guess she'll be the one dressing my wounds instead." 

 

Frisk opens their mouth to reply then realize what he'd said. They don't bother replying with more than a light slap on the back of his skull. No matter how much they care for him, it would take a miracle for them to ever like his puns just as much. He just laughs loudly, he always enjoys their reactions, when they laugh in disbelief, or snort at the ridiculousness, even when they get irritated like this; he just enjoys seeing all their different faces.

 

 

"Fine, fine, I'm done. I was gonna ask, ya think you can get my tool pouch from my bag, the blue one?"

 

"Sure, closet?"

 

"Ya know it."

 

 

Once Frisk reaches the closet they shake their head in disbelief, they’d been living here for almost two weeks and Sans still hadn’t unpacked his bags. He had the uncanny ability, if you could call it that, to make huge piles out of his belongings. Like his puns, sometimes he was the only one that could make sense of the piles. Frisk is not overly neat, but they have to draw the line somewhere, and they draw it right between Papyrus and Sans, neither extreme is a good idea. The canvas bag is of course under a pile of clothes, ketchup bottles, and a hard case they think might contain a telescope. They lift the case and fall back as whatever is inside happens to be way lighter than expected. They sneak a peek inside and they can almost hear the mocking soundtrack to their disappointment inside.

 

It's a trombone...of course it's a trombone.

 

They will definitely ask him if he can play it later, if only to humor him. They try not to question how Sans plays a trombone with no lips; they already know the only answer they'll get is "magic" accompanied by jazz hands. Instead they pull the heavy lump that is Sans' bag onto their lap and stick their arm all the way inside, rummaging through the mess of clothes until they find something hard. But instead of a tool pouch they find a book. It was odd, they hadn’t seen Sans pack any, he'd kept the copies of his books on his handlink and they weren't staying here long enough to warrant a bookcase, so what was so special about this one?

 

Then they read the cover and an evil smile forms on their face.

 

Back in the room Sans is starting to think he might have to help them navigate his pile when the tool pouch suddenly plops onto his lap. 

 

"Thanks kid, I was starting to think ya got lost in there. W-whassup?" He pauses, their expression is making him sweat, it's the same look they give him whenever they’re about to pull a fast one on him. They smile pleasantly and raise a familiar looking red book. 

 

"First rule of a successful date is to find a suitable target for your affections, not just any monster will do when you are looking to create True Romance. In order to-"

 

Sans makes a wild grab for the book with his magic before they can keep going, but Frisk's reflexes are too good, they turn and hold the book to their chest. The pull of his magic pushes them backwards and he catches them, trying to reach around to pry the book from them. They use magic to free themselves and hold it above his head, laughing all the while. The ensuing tickle fight is a long and arduous one, but losing was better than them reading the rest of that thing. He lays on his back and pants, trying to get his magic back together; they give his ribs one last tickle before placing the book on his sternum. 

 

"Oh, I think a page fell out, sorry!" Frisk leans over his body reaching for a paper above his head. He freezes, their face is so close he can see how the yellow light of their magic dances inside their eye socket, warm like sunlight on a hill, gentle like a flower…

 

Then they lean back and the moment passes, Sans struggles to make his soul stop fluttering inside his ribs.

 

"Wait, I think this is from Papyrus, maybe it's for you? It's some kind of code thing."

 

Sans narrows his eyes at the familiar symbols with some unease. " 'S called Windings, my dad used it to send us 'secret messages'." Frisk gives him an understanding look and returns the letter. He nods his thanks and as his eyes travel over the shapes his face starts turning redder and redder.

 

"Sans, are you ok?" 

 

"G-goddamn it, boss!" 

 

He folds it hastily and scrambles to his feet, hiding the letter in his pocket. Frisk laughs at his reaction and spends a good part of the afternoon trying to guess what the letter said. Thankfully for Sans, they are always very far from the mark.

  
  


 

The next morning the guards and the skeletons are ready for the first day of the host search. Frisk is so excited they're rattling, eye bright and cheekbones glowing gold, Sans may be glad for them but he still walks slow just to mess with them. They get frustrated and try to push him out the living room while the guards just watch in amusement, then even the stoic Celty cracks up when Frisk simply picks up Sans and carries him out the door. He doesn’t stall after that.

 

At the entrance of the house Frisk and Sans finally get to meet their guide. They'd spoken with Ceres many times before on the phone but never in person, as the head of security of the New Orleans safe house he was constantly busy. He's the first skeleton monster other than the skelebros and themselves that Frisk has ever met, with the startling difference that Ceres is a skeletal bird. Frisk shakes his hand and tries not to gawk at the huge wings that wrap like a cloak around his shoulders. He talks to them about the city and takes them around a few areas near the house to get them accustomed to the environment, so drastically different from that of Mt. Ebbot. 

 

They do various drills in preparation and after lunch they take an inconspicuous SUV through the convoluted and crowded streets. It drops them off in a corner a few blocks away from the street that leads into the French Quarter. Frisk just drinks it all in, the strange overly elaborate architecture, the hanging plant life adorning the balconies, the crowds of tourists mingling as evening creeps into a city that bustles with colors and life. Music plays from somewhere, loud voices and laughter accompany the sounds of cars and people moving about. 

 

The carnival may be far off from the small part of town they’re in but it still feels like it's here. They see the humans happily wandering like tourists, sweating even in the setting sun. Frisk is aware they cannot feel the humidity in the air that so clearly affects them, but none of their friends seem to feel it either and the thought doesn’t bother them as much as it used to. Today being a skeleton is an advantage and the change in their perspective is a welcome one.

 

They follow Ceres through the winding streets as he leads then to the place where their first host candidate works. He explains they are looking for a water elemental that performs in a vaudeville show in a nearby club, their magic is unnatural and they are located in one of the magic hotspots which makes them a clear suspect. Frisk tries to focus on the briefing but their eyes are constantly drawn to their surroundings, the  structures are lower but somehow manage to look more delicate than the ones back in Jackson. They didn’t know buildings could be so colorful and never did they imagine they’d see horse-drawn carts in the streets. It was only when they arrived that their focus returned to the task at hand. They felt a strong sense of responsibility to this, for themselves and for the other hosts that didn’t know they were in danger. For monsters like Bliz, Ika and in some unadmitted part for themselves. 

 

“I uh, gotta warn ya kid, this place might be a lil too much for ya; so the quicker we get in an out the better, right?” Sans grumbles in the side of their skull, drawing closer protectively.

 

“Wait, what, why?” they’re too embarrassed to admit they accidentally tuned Ceres out.

 

“Uh they uh, the show, I mean they got dancers and stuff.” Sans’ face starts turning red but they are no closer to understanding.

 

“There's a burlesque show.” Antoine puts in, walking them past the ticket counter.

 

“Oh.” They pause, then shrug. “I don’t mind, it’s just people dancing, just with less clothes I guess."

 

“ ‘S not a g-good environment is all, lets just get the lady to talk and then leave.”

 

“We need you to see the host candidate perform, it might reveal their true nature. Besides, it would not make a good impression if we openly examine her soul on our first meeting.” Celty puts in helpfully while they sit and order something. Sans flicks open his menu in a deliberately lazy demeanor, but his hands are tense and he’s sweating. 

 

“We just need to see their soul, we don’t gotta sit through this thing an-”

 

“It’s fine Sans, we’re safe here. Besides, it might be fun.”

 

Frisk gives him a smile, Sans turns his eyes back to the menu embarrassed by the fact they’re comforting him. The only comfort he needs is knowing they are safe, but he doesn't even get that, he never might and that thought makes him bitter. He doesn't know what more could he possibly do to ensure their safety, short of taking them far away from everything and anyone. Frisk laughs at something Antoine said and bumps shoulders with them, Sans stares, realizing how stupid that thought is. To just lock Frisk away in a bubble would destroy them, they would be safe but miserable and he wouldn’t let himself do that to them. 

 

"Sans it's starting!" Frisk shakes his arm and he turns his chair, to keep them in sight as well as watch the show. 

 

The music starts and the performers come out, there is a little bit of everything, from acrobats to jugglers and singers. Then near the end a hush falls over the crowd, the thin shimmering curtains close and after the announcer introduces the next act, they slowly open. Sans had seen elementals before, been friends with one for years actually, but never had he seen one like this. Her body was nearly bare, save a strip of fabric and jangling gold at her chest.

 

Like the fabric there, the nearly translucent skirt mixes with the color of her body, whose curves flow as the water she is made of moves in tandem to the drums. The dancer wiggles her hips, serpentine in her smooth grace, the lights of the stage go right through her, making her glow in a myriad of colors. Then she leans down and picks up a wand,ignites it with a flick of the wrist, then with an alluring smile she puffs her cheeks and spews a ball of fire into the air.

 

The crowd gasps then cheers loudly as she dances, splitting the wand in two and swaying while breathing flames every now and then. That was their cue, Antoine nudges Frisk out of their staring, while Sans checks the EM scanner, since his own eye would be like a beacon in the dim club if he were to use it. Frisk focuses their magic, closing their left eye and seeking out her light.

 

In the sea of colors her soul stands out above on the stage, a vivid pink, it is the most captivating thing in the room besides Sans' dark red heart. But other than the brightness, they couldn't see anything strange in her soul no matter how much they looked. The and give Sans a look, there was only one other way to know for certain, when her number ends and she greets the crowd they surge forward and let her shake their hand. They don’t feel anything other than the buzzing of her magic and the cooling sensation of her hand flowing inside their own. She may have put on a great show, but her fire was a trick and not an act of human magic.  

 

"She's not our gal?" Antoine murmurs to Frisk when they make it back to the table. They shake their head, downcast. 

 

" 'S just a magic trick, not actual magic."

 

"Well, I guess that's it then... Still, we did pay the ticket and our meal, so while we're here we might as well enjoy the show, no?" They smile softly at Frisk and tap their glasses together. Frisk smiles back and settles down to watch the rest of the show, the fact they end up having a wonderful time makes it feel like maybe this outing was not entirely a failure. 

  
  


 

 

After that the team goes through the suspect list quickly, the centric area where the safehouse is located allows them to move around rather quickly; they managed to rule out three more hosts by end of the week. One was a cook, that put on a live cooking show with levitating knives using blue magic; the other an acrobat, who used purple magic to control his pirouettes. The last was a fortune teller, who was just a good actor and clearly did not understand puns, as Sans spent the entire visit  making jokes at his expense that kept flying over his head. It is two days after that last host candidate, as Frisk sorts through the excess of pictures Mettaton keeps sending them, that Ceres approaches them with news.

 

" We're ready for da next host when ya are, Frisk." He tilts his head at them questioningly, looking extremely bird-like doing so.

 

"That's great, where are we going?" They sound so tired, the guard hopes this will cheer them up.

 

" There's this jazz club by day rivah, we hav reports offa ganbadeur playin folk outta their money. The guards there know it has somethin to do wiv magic and his readings are high enough ta make him a suspect. We gonna have a look, make him use his tricks and see what we get. Are ya up for dat?" 

 

Sans walks up to them, as if he could smell trouble from the other end of the house. 

 

"Up for what?" He arches his browbone at Ceres 

 

"Bourré o 'course." 

 

"What's booray?" Frisk asks.

 

"Do you like card games, lil flé?" 

 

The way Frisk's eyes light up at those words is answer enough. That afternoon Ceres takes Antoine's place as the designated card game loser; after just a few matches Frisk seems to get the hang of it and every win becomes more and more of a challenge for Ceres until he's running out of tricks and things to bet. Antoine just stands behind Frisk with a smug expression on their face, how could Ceres say anything about them now, after losing so resoundingly?

 

After the last match Frisk thanks the guards for their compliments, then they turn to Sans who is silent, fidgeting with his phone at the other side of the table. Once it would've been painful to smile over his anxious worry, now he smiles genuinely even if the worry showed through it. Frisk needed the support, even if he couldn't let go of the edge his anxiety offered him in a fight; he didn't have to be hard on them, he didn't have to make them feel like he didn't believe in them, because he did. He just didn't know how to believe more, didn't know to make sure they were safe without sticking to them like a shadow. No matter how much he cared for Frisk, or more likely because of it, he couldn't let them go again so easily, even if it meant he couldn't ever have a moment of peace again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late update is still update! Now with double update. Thank you very much for reading, these chapters were split into multiple because as one they were just too long and there was just too much happening, so now we have three chapters, I'm still working out the kinks but the story is a go. This chapter was for the last few months the bane of my existence, thank all the fandoms it is done. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and that you keep on reading, I'm hoping to make the tumblr page for the fic soon, so stay tuned and see ya in the next one!


	39. In the cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The monsters head out to face the last suspect on their list with the determination to catch them...

  
  


The club they are headed to  is located in a hotspot, both for socializing and for criminal activity,  because of that the planning for this host hunt has taken longer than the others. As the days wear on Frisk becomes more distant but also busier; when they aren't on their handlink talking, they're studying, when they're not cleaning after Sans they're training. Always busy, always tired.  

 

Frisk's friends don't know what they are going through, but they know there is something the monster isn't telling them. Lately Frisk seems tired and even on their best days there is always a hint of sadness in their eye. They may not know how important they are to Frisk, but many times they are the only thing that keeps the skeleton going. Frisk had a good feeling about this host hunt, they'd aced their tests that week, their team had moved on to the level 40 dungeon, Sans had made rainbow quiche; it was a sign that luck was with them. This card guy was their host, he had to be.

 

The day of the host hunt comes, and Frisk dresses sharp, a nice button up  shirt and some tight dress pants. They rolled up their sleeves and cleaned out the extra flowers from their bones. Taking the cue, even Sans wore dark jeans with a minimum amount of holes in them, their excitement rubbed off on him and on the way to the club he kept running through various ways he could get the information from the candidate. They reached the club early at night, or early for New Orleans standards. Ceres was out of the picture today, as he was a known face for the residents, but he was watching from a distance as they made their way through the front.

 

Initially they thought they'd have to shoulder through the bouncer, but Sans held them off, saying he had it covered. He approached the nearly seven foot tall, reptilian monster with the same lazy confidence he used to threaten the kids who tried to shop lift the handlink store he used to work in. Antoine was nervous that bullying their way in would draw attention, but after a minute or two the bouncer's severe expression cracked and she started to laugh, patting Sans heartily on the back. It seemed the short skeleton had found another monster who appreciated his puns; she held the door open and let them in, wishing them a good time.

 

“For a second I thought you were going to fight her.” they whisper to him.

 

“Me, fight? Nah, I don’t got the spine for it.” he winks, they just nudge his shoulder with theirs and walk on. 

 

Inside a small band plays, the frontman crooning about someone that wouldn't love him back, the smell of food and perfume mingle in the enclosed space. Small, elegant tables covered in deep red cloths were spread around the dance floor, a candle in the middle of each and an old chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The air was smoky making the club look like a scene from a mobster movie, oozing suaveness and cool. 

 

Frisk tries to keep their own cool and seem uninterested, but their eye was shining and darting about with wonder. The clientele was just as eye catching, ladies in pretty dresses and men in button ups with hats. There were people from all walks of life in the crowd but everyone seemed to be having a good time, the monsters made their way to a table and ordered something while they looked for their suspect.

 

"It feels like we're in the Coco Bongo!" Frisk whispers, rather loudly to Sans. "How'd they get all this old stuff?"

 

"Heh, don't let em get cha kiddo, the place ain't that decked out. Recognize that thing over the chandelier?" He points and they follow his line of sight, above the huge chandelier there is a familiar looking sphere.

 

"Are those...?"

 

"Yup, projectors. Got all the smokes and mirrors these guys."

 

They ignore the pun and sigh. "Aw man...oh well, it's still cool though." They shrug.

 

"If you're done spoiling Frisk's fun, we got our guy. Right off the stage, in the shadow 'tween the lights." Antoine puts in. 

 

The skeletons shift a little, as if talking to each other, Frisk leans in as if talking in his ear and turns to the side. There is a small crowd around a table that's been pushed closer to the wall, on it there is a monster that looks like a human for a moment until the light hits their face. His skin is made of woven, yellow wheat, like a scarecrow or a straw doll, with a ratty black fedora to match. His beady eyes shine with magic and his mouth is a gash shaped like a permanent smirk. The monster’s straw hair is combed to the side and his hand deftly shuffles the cards in their hand with just their fingers. 

 

"It's a scarecrow!" Frisk gasps, fascinated.

 

"Nah, look closer, that's guy's a ghost." Sans says. 

 

Frisk nods and stares intently, taking in the straw man's soul. It is a vivid green with some odd hints of purple and red here and there, like freckles on their soul. Unlike other monsters, whose magic flows down vein-like paths across their body, there is a diffuse glow on his limbs with no specific direction. But it is that strange mottled pattern that is unusual enough to get them excited, this has to be their host. They relay what they see to the others and after some planning they head out to the dance floor, spreading around and edging closer to the card player's table. Sans and Frisk dance together but they are unusually stiff and in Frisk's case, unable to turn away from the host. Antoine and Celty find suitable dance partners in the crowd and by the end of the second song they are somehow standing at each side of the table, ready for the skeletons to approach.

 

"Lemme go first, this guy looks just one of those scam artists. I can handle 'im." Sans whispers.

 

"I wanna help, we could play good cop-bad cop." Frisk says excitedly.

 

"Sure kid, you be the good cop and I'll be the bad to the bone cop."

 

They frown at him in silent disapproval as they reach the table. Nobody pays attention to them as they are enraptured with the game. At first glance it looks like Briscas to Frisk, but they must be playing Bourré, not just because of the pile of monster gold in the basket next to the straw man, but also because the moves the players are pulling are insanely cruel. They watch as one by one the  humans and monsters give up their cash to the scarecrow, who takes it all with sardonic swagger.

 

As the last human in the table gets up, with literally just the clothes on his back, Sans moves into the space he occupied, to the right of the straw man. 

 

"Oh, esqueleto monstah, ya don't see that everyday. Wanna play, huesos?"

 

"Sure, ya think you can straw me a hand, scarecrow?"

 

Several people groan, Frisk covers their face. The scarecrow's smile widens lopsidedly.

 

"Siempre y cuando you don't skull around when I beat ya. Throw me basket a bone, esqueleto and let's play some cards." 

 

Watching intently, Frisk notes the game only takes so long because he's teasing them. The straw man drags it on purposefully until the other players are ready to pull their hair out, only to beat them in just two moves when he feels like it. Every time it is his turn Frisk checks on him, but they never catch him doing anything out of the norm. Sans gets up after he loses, smiling all the while and offers to shake the straw man's hand. His fingers are lit up in red and purple, he leans down only inches from his face. Frisk can feel Sans' magic lighting his eye and wrapping heavily around the ghost's soul inside the scarecrow. 

 

This was a little much for a threat.

 

Then the straw man laughs, so loud you'd think he's been told the best joke ever. 

 

"Don't think because I'm a ghost I'm spineless, esqueleto. Yer not the first one who thinks they can catch me out of the straight and marrow. But if I were tricking these folk, don't ya think someone would've caught me by now?" his crooked smile becomes even more crooked.

 

Sans growls low in his throat but the sound of coins hitting the table makes him pause. 

 

"I'd like to play a game, please."

 

Frisk sits across the straw man, giving Sans a pointed look. He sighs and backs away, standing to their side instead. The straw man smirks and expertly shuffles the deck, handing it to the other players to shuffle as well, as a show of honesty. Frisk plays how the usually do, patiently and observantly, when they inevitably lose they don't make a big deal, only pay to play again. A few games pass, their pockets are much lighter than when they entered, the monsters and humans that first shared their table are long gone and Sans is losing his patience. 

 

"Looks like yer out of gold florecilla, maybe next time, eh? Unless you wanna bet that last one you got in ya pocket?" 

 

Frisk glances up at the straw man, stunned and pulls the coin out of their pocket. It's their last one, a lucky charm, it was the coin Bliz had lent them just hours before he was killed. It still had a sugar stain on one side that never seemed to go away. 

 

"This one is not for betting, sorry." 

 

"Tell ya what, I can loan you some gold, with interest of course. " He flicks some coins from the basket, making the gold dance between his knuckles before making a pile on the table. "If ya beat me on this one you get two coins back."

 

"Why not six?" They say with a sweet smile, the straw man laughs and shakes his head.

 

"Ya funny, what's yer name flor?" 

 

"It's Cambria."

 

"Nice to make yer acquaintance, Cambria, I'm Ray. " He shakes their hand and holds it for a while, smiling, Sans shifts closer to Frisk but he ignores him and tilts his head playfully at Frisk. "Let's dance, flor."

 

 

In just the first few rounds he eliminates the other players until it is only him and Frisk, he smiles at them and they smile back, the game drags on for longer than usual but soon enough he begins his barrage. Only this time luck seemed to be on Frisk's side as they neutralized all of his plays until inevitably the game ended in a tie, though they had lesser cards Frisk had amassed the same amount of points as Ray. His smile widens and he starts a new game, the crowd stares on as they played game after game. Ray won the first few but any time Frisk was about to lose all their gold they would somehow come back and tie, just enough for their pile to increase little by little. 

 

Instead of being intimidated, Ray seems to love the challenge and gets more and more ruthless in his gameplay, but Frisk doesn't seem bothered at all. Then halfway through the sixth game something changes, no matter what Ray plays he can’t seem to get the upper hand, the lead trades hands many times during this match but in the end Frisk wins by the smallest of margins. Ray claps encouragingly and urges them to bet more while the going was good, he even takes his hat off to them. 

 

They indulge him, only to win again, this time by a bigger margin, he reacts with the same condescendence and Frisk responds with the same polite smile;  and as they push him harder and harder his confidence begins to ebb. He laughs nervously and reshuffles the cards, letting one of the girls next to him blow a kiss on the deck for luck. 

 

"It’s been a blast florecilla, but I think it's time we give the people what they came for. Double or nothing, one last round, eh?"

 

"That sounds good to me." They smile at him and take their cards, only this time they don’t hold back. 

 

This time they play without mercy.

 

To say it was a massacre would be an understatement, Ray barely got any points and as the cards ran out it dawned on him: he was going to lose...only he couldn't let that happen. He tips his hat until his eyes are shadowed and smiles wide, the crowd jeers excitedly, recognizing the gesture as him getting serious. What they don't see is how Ray takes that moment to leave the straw body and hover across the table to look at Frisk's cards. Before he even gets the chance to, the skeleton lays their cards face down on the table and turns, looking him straight in his ghostly face.

 

"Hey there Ray, you lost?" They said barely moving their smiling mouth. The shock makes him shoot back into his body in a hurry, knocking the scarecrow back as if he'd been hit. Everyone is startled then laugh good naturedly at the crazy card player as he tilts back on his chair and has to grab the table to pull himself back into place.

 

Frisk tilts their head with fake confusion and keeps playing but there is no point, without his little trick Ray can't keep up. As they reach the last hand the crowd is already cheering, toasting and laughing at the fact this tourist has beaten the infamous Ray Booré in less than ten matches. At that point Ray calls Sans over, the skeleton is so confused he walks over and humors the strawman when he urges him even closer.

 

"Could ya be a friend to old Ray and take your friend with ya? He's killing me business!" He whispers urgently, Sans gives him a threatening snarl but instead of being intimidated the gambler grabs his hand and holds it tight. "I beg you, please take em away, your friend is...they're scaring the hay outta me, okay?"

 

Sans and Ray turn to Frisk who wiggles their fingers at them playfully.

 

"Sorry pal, I can't bale you outta this one." Sans pulls his hand away from the desperate monster and stands behind Frisk. Behind the shallow jealousy of the fact Frisk scared him more, he finds something stronger, it is pride.

 

When Frisk lays the last card down the entire crowd around the table cheers. Despite his fear, Ray had to admit that was some of the best games he'd played in a while. This time when he takes his hat off to Frisk he means it, but when they get up to shake his hand he hesitates, staring at their deceivingly sweet smile.

 

"Thanks for playing with me, I had fun, Ray." 

 

"Uh, you got me Cambria, what else can I tell ya? Anyway, you uh, live around here?" Somehow Ray is sweating nervously, magic pools in droplets on his straw forehead and go down his cheeks; Frisk tries not to laugh but fails.

 

"Nah, I'm just visiting." 

 

Ray literally sighs in relief, after that he is all cheer and pomp, that is until he sees Frisk take his basket. This time he took off his hat in mourning, but what Frisk did with the basket made him wish he could eat that hat. The skeleton spent the next few hours giving back all the gold he'd won, and the rest they donated. When they left the strawman was torn between the joy he’d had his first good challenge in years and the fact he’d have to earn back all the gold he’d won. For Frisk, giving the gold back wasn’t just the right thing to do, it was also the only way to make sure this night was not a waste. They talked about it to their other monsters, smile still plastered on their face, they had fun they’d said and it was true. They try not to lose hope but still that night they lay down frustrated only to have a nightmare and as they get up to take the flowers off their skull it becomes too much and they finally let themselves cry. Luck wasn’t with them at all: Ray was the last of the suspects on the list and he wasn't their host.

  
  


 

To Sans, Frisk was someone he still couldn't understand. Papyrus was simple, he was heroic, enthusiastic, friendly and occasionally stern when defending what he believed in. Mettaton was flashy and obnoxious, but also very hard-working, ambitious and protective of his loved ones. Monsters were easy to define, despite the fact they lived for such a long time once they settled on a way of being, it would take an immensely impactful event to change them. Perhaps it was because of their human soul, but to him it felt as if Frisk was constantly changing and he is struggling to keep up. The only thing that stayed the same was their kindness, that vibrant determination to do the right thing that he could so easily relate to.    
  


Even now, seeing them like this, being clever, outwitting this showy scarecrow, laughing with the crowd, making friends; it filled him with wonder but it also made him lonely. Bright and unfettered,  they have many friends, are kind and strong, soon enough they'll be capable of looking out for themselves.    
  


Then what do they need him for?    
  


Isn't it selfish of him to be keeping them all to himself? To want to be their protector and their friend? To want to be needed? What place does he have in their life, if they don't need him? He'd rather be their guard dog for the rest of his days if it means he gets to stay at their side. That night he feels them cry and all he can think of is how much he sucks at his job, when he can't even protect them from this.   
  
  


 

The list of main suspects is finished, they were fishing for rumors still, trying to get anything to go on, but every lead they followed takes them to another dead end. Failure is starting to wear on all of them. Frisk tries to remain cheerful, but as the weeks trickle by the house starts wearing on them. It is a big house, but it wasn't Mettaton and Papyrus' mansion, there is less space to wander, less places to be. Out of sympathy or out of overprotectiveness, Sans never leaves the house either, but it clearly makes him anxious and save the occasional conversation, he spent most of his time doing his handlink repair work quietly.

 

Ironically the only thing that kept Frisk from becoming depressed was their own handlink, through it they spoke to their friends from the online courses as well as with Flowey and Mettaton. They could read, watch movies, listen to music, see the world as it was now, even if it was through holograms projected on their bedroom wall. Then that week the conversation comes up again, their friends want to video chat with them, the subject has always made Sans nervous, he doesn't want to expose Frisk to people who might accidentally reveal their whereabouts, he didn't want anyone to find them here.    
  


But the handlink was supposed to be secure and he knew they needed this, to feel connected to something outside of this pretty prison they'd been put into. So he said yes and sat next to them as they and their friends saw each other for the first time. Sans watched them, as if from behind a glass wall; the way they smiled, the excited rattling of their bones, the glow on their cheeks, their surprised laughter. This is what they needed and he realized he needed them to feel like this, he needed their happiness the same way he needed the sun to remind him he was on the surface.    
  


"Yeah, he's right here. Sans! Sans?"   
  


"Sorry kid, guess I must be turning hard of hearing." He tapped his skull to make his point.    
  


They roll their eye at him and pull him by the elbow until he's in the frame with them. There is a pause from the other side then an unflattering snort.   
  


"I got it!" Said a red headed guy laughing and tapping his ear.    
  


Frisk goes through the introductions while Sans put on his default lazy and smirk, starting to fire off puns as he makes small talk with them. Most of the students groan or chuckle, but that one red headed guy kept snorting and laughing until he was out of breath. Frisk started to think maybe this wasn't such a great idea.   
  


"So man, are you guys,  like dating?" Asked the snorty guy after he stopped laughing.   
  


"Don't be nosy man, you don't have to answer that." Said a dark skinned girl.   
  


"We're um, really close friends." Frisk replied, hoping their friends didn't bring their 'crack shipping', as Alphys called it, into this.   
  


"You sure it's not because Frisk hasn't found the guts to ask you out?"   
  


The girl sighs with exasperation. "Oh my gosh Dan, did you seriously just ask that? Ignore him he's just being-"   
  


"Damn Dan, it's almost like ya can see right through em." Sans winks at him and Frisk has to interrupt them before the punning gets out of hand.    
  


Luckily the conversation diverts into gaming, Frisk's friends are pretty excited to have Sans join them and Frisk is happy to be able to spend time with all their friends at once.    
  


"Dude, now I'm gonna have to change your ringtone, you know that right?" Dan says and plays a song into the speakers. At the first few notes everyone groans, even Sans. Frisk stares between the screen and Sans questioningly.   
  


"Dan don't be a hipster, can't you see that's rude?"   
  


" Frisk knows I don't mean it like that, I mean come on. I had to, sorry dude." He looks at Sans apologetically.    
  


Sans frowns at him, but there's no real sting behind it, Frisk on the other hand starts laughing loudly the instant the lyrics sink in; and so, despite everyone's attempt to keep it from them, Frisk finally discovers the "Spooky Scary Skeletons" song. Even more amazing than the fact they'd never heard this before was that Sans, who usually enjoyed memes and jokes, was annoyed by it. Not just because people would sing it to him when he first got to the surface, but because according to him it made skeletons sound 'desperate and wimpy'. I mean, what's so scary about waking you up with a boo? 

  
So from then on Frisk finally had a reliable weapon in their quest to annoy Sans back, and they used it wisely whenever his puns were getting out of hand. Talking and playing with their friends helped them regain their resilience, so when the time came to approach the next host candidate, Frisk felt more than ready to search for answers without being so afraid of the outcome.   


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doubles for the win! I hoped you enjoyed that one, I was having a huge writer's block for the first time since I started writing this and just convinced myself to keep writing, I already knew they'd play cards in a club but I had no idea what the card thief would look like, I literally wrote the entire thing without knowing what they looked like and when Frisk saw them for the first time, that was the first time I saw them too. It was a fun experience. I hope you had fun reading this too, see ya next week on the next one! Where we get to see the real host of New Orleans!


	40. More to life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To stave off the disappointing end to their host search Frisk and Sans are allowed to go to out into the city one last time...

  
  
  


Tommy watches Wallace as he makes his way out of the hideout, the lookouts let him know the hare was not being followed. Weak as the lawyer was when it came to siding with his mate, he was at least true to his word. The cat then turns to his childhood friend, who sits on the bed meal half forgotten on the tray atop her lap while she reads the news on his handlink. The noise hasn't died, they're still after her and she doesn't seem at all surprised.   
  


"So, when are we gonna talk, Dahl?" He prompts.    
  


"Whatcha mean, Tommy? We're talking now."   
  


"Ya know what I mean. Do ya still trust me? Cause I still got yer back, ya know that."   
  


"I know...this is just too big for ya Tommy, no offense or nuthin."   
  


"Color me offended then. Way I sees it ya owe me at least a reason. I saved her tail." He waves a hand tiredly, she smiles picking at the splint.   
  


"That I do, Tommy-boy. All I can say is tha I got ma'self a real nasty curse, and Imma try real hard to make it into a blessing, ya feel me?"   
  


"Ya know I do. So lemme help ya, 's always better to do these things together." He holds out his meaty paw and she takes it, shaking her head.   


  
"You'll get in a whole lotta trouble."   
  


"No more than I already am." He grins, this time she smiles back. 

 

That night, for the first time Dahlia tells someone about how an orange soul found its way into hers the night officer Barker was killed, about the power it gave her and the hunger came with. She talks unusually quiet and nervous, he listens without interruption. By the end she has his word and his drive to help her achieve her goals, for the first time since she found this power she is not truly alone and that fact lights a fire in her chest she hadn't realized she could have.   
  
  
  


  
  
  
Sylvia Herring is always direct, a source of clarity for Frisk and Sans when they are at their most vulnerable and confused. Today even that clarity feels lackluster to Frisk, it’s as if they are repeating themselves, their home has changed, their abilities have changed and even their relationship with their friends has changed and yet it feels as if their memories are still stuck somewhere under the mountain.   
  


"They're all the same, sometimes I talk to Chara or see more details about the same things but it's nothing really new. I'm getting my memories mixed up with the things that are happening now and everything looks wrong." Frisk fidgets, hands clattering on their lap out of sight of the hologram on Sylvia's desk.   
  


"I understand there is magic involved in this case but even then, that's no guarantee your dreams are a direct reflection of what happened. Remember what we discussed, these dreams add to the process but they are not definitive answers. You know better than anyone that not everything you see in them  has really happened. It seems to me that as you've become healthier you've started to have more average dreams, there's nothing wrong with that."   
  


"But I haven't remembered anything new since...since that time in Snowdin." They pause, almost as if to check the memories are still there.   
  


"Why does that scare you so much? It would be nearly impossible to remember everything that happened so long ago, even under normal circumstances."   
  


"I know, but it's because I don't want to stay stuck... I wanted to remember everything but I've kind of forgotten to keep trying to remember, with my classes and training and the host thing I just...don't. What if I can't ever remember?"   
  


"We already knew that was a possibility and it's not really about how much work you put into it. But let's say you don't remember anything else, what do you think will happen, then?" She observes them intently, seeing some of their old daze taking over.   
  


"I wouldn't know who I am at all...and they wouldn't believe in me anymore."   
  


"Who's they?"   
  


"Sans, Flowey... Papyrus, Mettaton, Anty, Celty... everyone I care about."     
  


" You mean everyone that cares about you too?"   
  


"Yeah, that too."   
  


She smiles at them kindly, too often the people that have such love and consideration for others can be sadly self deprecating.   
  


"What about your new friends?" She asks then.   
  


"Um, what about them?"   
  


"Your new friends from the online courses, Daniel, Rue Bee, Paul and Lisa. They don't share any of those old memories with you. How do you think they would react if you didn't remember everything?"   
  


"I guess they'd be sad for me...but nothing else would really change. It doesn't make a difference because they met me afterwards." She nods at them, patiently waiting for them to grasp their answer. "It's not something I share with them...not as important because they only know the me I am right now, and not the me I used to be."   
  


"Great job. Does that mean what you feel for your old friends is stronger than what you feel for your new friends?" She takes notes, happy for their willingness to face their own psychological games, it's never an easy thing to do.   
  


"Not really, they're my friends too...we shared different things but...that doesn't mean I care about them more or less because of it."   
  


"Do you think the way Sans and Flowey feel for you would change if you didn't remember?"    
  


They shift uncomfortably, this part was not as easy to face.    
  


"I... I'm not sure. I'm scared it will, I guess...it’s just, it's not something I can control."   
  


"What can't you control?"   
  


"Anything! I can't force myself to remember and I can't control how they feel about it or whether or not they'll still want to be friends if I can't remember." The frustration is still there, boiling hot under their passive demeanor. So she pushes their buttons again.   
  


"Why do you want to remember?"   
  


"Because I want to know who I am." Frisk says, like they have before.   
  


"For whose sake do want to remember?"   
  


"For me, obviously." They say automatically with irritation and it's that small irk that makes them realize how it’s a lie. "Oh god, I'm lying...it's-it's for them. I can figure out who I am if you give me time but I want to remember because I want them to be happy, to give them what they want and I can't sometimes. I say stuff I'm not supposed to and do things that don't go with my personality and it bothers them sometimes, I know it does..."   
  


"You can't know that with certainty, unless they tell you about it. Even with magic it's hard to understand what other people are feeling if you don’t talk abou it. But let me ask you Frisk, don't you think they want you to be happy too? With or without memories you are their friend. Wouldn't you feel the same way about them even if they couldn't remember all the moments you had together?"   
  


"I would! I do...I'm just scared that they'll get... disappointed."   
  


"But like you just said, you can't control what they feel. Whether or not you get all your memories back, it won't change that fact. You have power over your own choices, not theirs. So try making choices that take your feelings into consideration first and everyone else's second."   
  


"Isn't that selfish, though?" They pause to wipe the tears that fall without permission from the flower in their socket and look up to see her shaking her head.   
  


"It's harmful to choose things for other's sake without taking yourself into consideration. I know your heart is in the right place but you can only love other people as much as you love yourself. Putting your feelings aside constantly for the sake of other people, even the people you love is not healthy, in fact it can be very harmful and very painful."   
  


Frisk can't really argue back when they know those words are true, they nod quietly, processing what this means and looking back on all the instances when they'd tried to push aside their feelings out of the way of others. When they left the house, when they hid their nightmares, when they tried to act happy despite the weight in their ribcage. All those times, that pain had come back out in some way and it had been painful just the same.

 

They also think about Sans and realize they also know what it's like to be on the other side of the equation, seeing a loved one struggle with their emotions for your sake is never easy, even more so when the person insists in disregarding their own feelings. They realize this is what they should be working on from now on, and Sylvia agrees. They finish up and say their goodbyes, feeling an exhausted satisfaction similar to what they get from a long, hard day of training. It seems like confronting one's own lies takes a lot of energy but the result is usually a refreshing sense of clarity and the undeniable lightness of freedom.    
  
  
  


 

  
  
The next morning Frisk is filled with renewed energy, they are not joyful exactly, but at least they are no longer listless. With that new-found energy  they start to pack; the guards had looked through the remaining suspects in the area and other than an unfounded rumor about some sort of healer they had nothing else to go on. It was time for them to move on.   
  


"I heard Ms. Undyne say that Chile is very nice this time of year. Did you know they have penguins?" Antoine tries to make conversation as they reach into the high shelves of Frisk and Sans' shared closet.    
  


"Penguins? I thought it didn't snow in the south." They reply, a little more enthused.     
  


"Snow has nothing to do with it in this case, these birds are on the coast." they hand Frisk another unpacked duffel belonging to the ketchup loving skeleton.    
  


"Guess the penguins think it's chilly enough in Chile." his gruff voice yells in from the hall.   
  


"I can't with you... Go pick up your socks, Sans!" Frisk yells back, closing the door with their magic. They can still hear him laughing through it.   
  


Antoine shakes their head and pulls the last bit of clothes from the top shelf. Frisk is clearly not as frustrated as before, but there is still a sad undertone to their demeanor. Just in time a soft knock comes to the door, they open it and Sallet lets herself in.   
  


"Mx. Frisk, Mx. Scythes, please accompany me to the living room, there is an incoming message from Mr. Mettaton."   
  


Not really questioning it, since it was common for the robot to send them video messages or calls every now and then, Frisk puts down their bag and walks out. They don't notice the multi-eyed wink Antoine shares with the smaller guard.   
  


"Good morning, beauties! I hoped you all haven’t missed me too much! How are you doing, sweetie? I hope N'awlins is to your liking, it's such a colorful and fun place to be!"   
  


"Hey Mettaton, yeah it is, we had fun at the club the other day. The food's great and the people here are really nice." they say, sitting in front of the projector. If the way Mettaton is sprawled on the coffee table is anything to go by he must be on the dining table back at his house.   
  


"That they are, sweetie. But I bet you haven't been to the parade yet, am I right?" They tilt their head about to reply but he waves them off. "Of course I am! That was a  rhetorical question. You see, I’m calling you so suddenly because I was talking with Papy dearest and we decided..." He waves at someone off camera and Papyrus makes a dramatic entrance into the frame, swooping his husband into his arms, in a practiced motion.    
  


"YOU'RE ALL GOING TO THE PARADE!" They say in unison.   
  


"WHAT!?" Frisk's voice isn't the only one to raise the question, across the living room is Sans, standing there with a pile of socks he just spilled at his feet.    
  


"What are ya talking bout, bro? I thought we were going to Chile?" He walks into frame and the husbands exchange a look before Mettaton is set back on his feet. The robot clears his throat with an obnoxious sense of self-importance.   
  


"Well, you see, due to recent circumstances, we've decided it is safe for you to go, at least one night." Mettaton explains slowly, which only annoys Sans more.   
  


"What circumstances?" He growls.   
  


"Recent circumstances being that we found where Dahlia is hiding! We followed some of her old buddies to Evanston and we're planning on capturing her by tomorrow. I can't share all the details but you can rest assured, we are this close to catching her!" Papyrus puts his hand close to the screen showing the tiniest gap between his thumb and forefinger.   
  


Sans shakes his head with a snarl but stops himself when he sees Frisk, they aren't just excited, they look genuinely hopeful, relieved even. He tries to feel happy too, but somehow the worry doesn't fade so easily, as if they can feel it Frisk turns and gives him a sympathetic smile. He can't stand to look at them, ashamed of the fact he feels he'd be useless if he had nothing to protect them from.   
  


The conversation goes on with the usual loudness and flamboyance, then once the call is done they finish packing, only now Frisk seems to have some of their old zest back. As the evening wears on their excitement builds, they call Flowey and together with Alphys they design the costumes they'll wear for the parade. Antoine will be Zorro, Selty will be Tinkerbell, Ceres has painted his skull and strung his wings with lights and beads. Most costumes used a touch of magic and not wanting to be left out Frisk takes some of the fanciest looking clothes Mettaton gave them, weaves their flowers into a pair of spiraled horns atop their skull and deems themselves ready.

  
Sans on the other hand is not as dedicated, he throws on a mariachi hat and a poncho and calls it a night. While the guards let him be, Frisk would have none of it and Ceres suggests they borrow his window markers to paint Sans' face. Because he wouldn't say no to them, Sans finds himself trapped on the couch while Frisk draws on his face.   
  


He tries to keep his expression neutral but this is making him feel self conscious. Their face is so close to his, their thin fingers touching him, they run the markers gently over his bones and every time they take his chin to turn his face his magic shoots a little spark into his soul. They ask him to close his eyes and draw over his eyelids, he's sweating and probably blushing but he can't move away, so he sits through the torture, squirming until they are done.   
  


"It actually looks really good!" They say.   
  


"Why ya sound so surprised?" He growls.   
  


"It  **is** surprising, they've managed to make you look quite interesting. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you look handsome.  Great job, Frisk!" Antoine put in.    
  


When Sans sees himself in the mirror he has to admit he does look great. His skull is covered in a brightly colored lacework of designs that enhance and seem to celebrate the fact he is a skull. But all the focus is drawn to his eyes, the paint goes well with the molten red in his sockets and even brings out the small shard of blue that is slowly growing inside them.    
  


"Wow kid, you sure pulled a number on me. I owe ya one."   
  


"You can pay me back by taking a picture with me."   
  


He groans. "Ya sure? I mean I could pay you back in quiches."   
  


"Im sure, it would be  **_sweet_ ** of you to do this." They give him an eyebrow wag and this time he blushes visibly.   
  


"Not like you gave me a choice, doll."    
  


"You literally threw on a hat and cut a hole into the couch throw and called it a poncho."   
  


"And I was sucrose to getting away with it too." He wags his brow bones back at them and Frisk is mesmerized by the way the colors move on his face.   
  


"Don't push your luck, sugar skull." They retort while pulling his hat down over his face.    
  


While he tries to get his head out of it Frisk sets up the camera and grabs his arm, striking a pose. The next half hour is just them and the guards taking pictures and wasting time until they head out. The streets are literally buzzing, people pouring out into the city all dressed brightly and spectacularly. They see ladies with long summer skirts of every color, men with feathered hats and masks, balloons and flowers crowd the balconies and streets. There are musicians on the sidewalks and on the floats, there is food and dance and joy.

 

As if all of New Orleans had decided to be the happiest they could be all at once, it was intoxicating and Sans was glad Frisk was holding his arm. It gave him an excuse to stay constantly close and enjoy the pleasant buzz he could feel coming from them even through his clothes. Then he feels their magic spark his ribs and nearly jumps out of his costume.    
  


"What’re ya doin, kid? Ya scared me."   
  


"Sans...you're not wearing a shirt." They observe.    
  


He lifts his arm and looks under the poncho to see only his ribs.   
  


"Welp, guess I forgot."   
  


"How do you forget to put a shirt on to go outside?" They slap his shoulder playfully and he chuckles, pleased with himself.   
  


"I guess I just don't give a shirt." He sticks his tongue out at them, and they startle as if they'd forgotten it was there. He laughs at their expression so they pull his hat over his face again and go get some pralines.    
  


As the sun sets and night covers the city, colorful lights appear over head, lanterns and magic shine into the dark, laughter and music is all they hear everywhere they go. There is no distinction between monsters and humans today, everybody is a part of the celebration and the floats reflect this sense of unity and charm. 

 

The fantastic animals and shapes of the floats, the confetti that rains down on them and the music reverberating against their ribs serve only to fuel Frisk’s excitement. The skeleton jumps in place and dances, nudging Sans to get him to sway with them, they yell at the float crews for throws and try to catch all the trinkets that are hurled into the crowd. They'd never felt this unbridled joy, this urge to dance and sing and cheer.   
  
  


"We be going back to base soon, this party is about ta get louder and we don't wanna be here when dat happens." Ceres says when it's getting close to midnight. Frisk is a little sad to go but they understand, as they are about to make their way back he stops them.   
  


"Ya might not wanna Miss dis one thou." He puts a hand on their shoulder and they turn to see the prettiest float they'd seen so far, it commemorates the fifty years of freedom for the monsters of New Orleans. Their barrier broken at a ‘haunted’ hotel in the French Quarter, just a few years after Mt.Ebbot with the help of Alphys' technology and the voodoo of the local human magi. The humans here had very little magic at the time, but they had plenty of belief and hope so with a little direction they were able to free the monsters from under the city.    
  


The float top is shaped like the hotel itself, a miniature that expanded down into winding structures of bright greens and blues. It was shaped after the arches of the sewers and caves that formed their cities, fake water made of fabric flowed between the fake stones representing winding rivers and canals that covered Guinee, their version of the Underground. The float Queen and King are dressed in colorful beaded armor and bear a long crown of feathers mimicking that of their old rulers, who had passed. They stood proud and tall at the front while the crew threw doubloons with the royal crest to the crowd. Frisk took one for themselves and pressed the other into Sans' hand, they shared a smile for a long moment until the loud crack of fireworks cut diverted their attention.    
  


A tall column of magic fireworks blasts from the top of the float, smaller rockets spiral into the dark sky leaving trails of glitter that rain down on the crowd, it's simply spectacular. As the explosions escalate, streamers and confetti pour down like a shining rain and their eye follows it into the crowd taking in so many smiling faces; both monsters and humans together in the simple happiness of just being alive. But among them there is a face in tears. Frisk stares intently, not understanding at first why the image is so odd, the monster's face is frozen in a sad expression, tear tracks almost carved into it's cheeks. It tilts it's horned head at them, as if able to sense their question even over the crowd. Then it hits them: they are wearing a mask.

 

A crying jester...a sad clown. 

  
  
Frisk's soul jumps in their ribcage, they let their eye socket close and even though it is blinding, they try to pick out their light from the crowd. There is a lagoon where the jester stands, green and placid, it's watery light seems to slow time around it; when they open their eye the monster is holding their gaze and tilts its head the other way as if regarding them. Frisk stands still, the world continues to move all around  but the two of them stare at each other, paralyzed in some sort of understanding. 

 

The monster nods at them, an acknowledgement, then gestures with their head for them to follow. As if entranced, Frisk obliges, eyes glued to the back of the jester's head as they navigate the crowd haphazardly. Despite their speed and almost blind focus they still lose them, the crowd becomes too thick to move through and too soon they can't see anyone they recognize and panic.   
  


"SANS!"    
  


Their voice is completely lost in the booming music and yells, when they try to reach for their handlink someone's elbow knocks it out of their hand. They can't catch it before it hits the floor, now they are terrified, they're officially lost in the parade by themselves. Frisk turns this way and that trying to find a familiar face but is instead shoved deeper into the crowd until a soft hand pulls them backwards into a narrow storefront. They turn around but the face that greets them is not a familiar one, it isn't a face at all.

 

It's a mask.    
  


"Ya dropped this, cher." The jester holds out their handlink and nods, he has a deep and raspy male voice. It sounds ancient.   
  


"Thank you." They take it back carefully but he offers no resistance, his hands are dark and very long, incongruous with his colorful clothes. A shudder rattles their spine, the monster's appearance makes them uneasy but what they can perceive of his magic is sending a comforting feeling into their soul. The contrast is disconcerting to say the least.   
  


"Ya look lost too. Would ya like ma help?" He extends his hand again, his arms are also very long, folded into themselves against his thin, bare chest. He punctuates his sentences with low, small coughs.   
  


Frisk takes his hand, even terrified as they are  they have to know the answer. The moment their fingers touch they choke. Like a fountain, warmth builds in pressure from the bottom of their spine and into their skull only to come out of their eyes.    
  


Relief is what they feel, while the tears stream continuously from their eyes. They hold onto his hand, not knowing how to let go, not knowing how to stop. There is no shaking cries, nor a sound, the tears simply pour out as if being drained until there is nothing left. In the lingering lightness that comes afterwards they can feel the mass of flowers that kept reaching for their eye with unease settle down. At that moment, holding his hand, they could feel the plants as if they were just an extension of their soul and with their magic they pull the blooms back from their spine until they occupy only their ribcage. The yellow buttercups sit peacefully inside their chest, no longer trapping them, but almost as if keeping their soul company. They let out a long sigh and realize the jester is laughing softly now, it was the most grandfatherly laugh they'd ever heard.    
  


"Bon deu, ya got one too...oh dat is so tragic, for someone so young ta have dis burden. Come, we need ta talk." he waves at them to come closer.   
  


"W-wait, I need to find my friends!" They grab onto his hand, the sweet feeling of comfort lingers there, as if it were coming from his very soul.   
  


"I rather not, cher. Ma curse is not one I wanna share wid da others."   
  


"No, wait you don't understand, it isn't safe because--" a firework roars next to them, drowning out their voices. The jester shakes his head and gently tries to pry his hand from Frisk's, but they hold on. This is their host, the answer they were looking for, their hope for peace.

 

They could not let him escape.

 

They summon a slew of bones behind him to keep him from leaving, he doesn’t react.   
  


"Maybe I don't undahstand, but I know I can't let anyone take dis curse for me. I'll find you again cher, when ya by yerself. Now go dodo, it be past ya bedtime." 

 

He raises a hand to their skull and a sudden wave of calm leaves them reeling, nearly asleep on their feet. Their magic wavers and fades away. In that moment of hesitation the jester pulls away and before they can recover, he disappears into the crowd just as Sans appears out of it.    
  


"FRISK!" He roars, so loud the crowd parts around him.   


 

Either his anger or their own excitement startles them awake.    
  


"I found him Sans! I found the other host!" Frisk glad to have found both the host and Sans,  jumps into his arms, knocking his hat off to hang from his neck bones. He holds them so tightly in return they can't move.   
  


"Ya scared me sweetheart, I thought-" he starts.   
  


"I'm fine, I'm fine. But he got away, we gotta go after him!"   
  


Sans pulls away, trying hard not to let their enthusiasm muddle his thoughts and gives them a serious frown.     
  


"NO!….No, let's wait for the others to catch up. Which way'd he go?" he yells, sweating nervously.   
  


"I can't feel him, it's really crowded in here!" They yell back over the fireworks. "I think he's this way!" 

 

Frisk pulls away and Sans shadows them until they reach an easy to find corner where they wait for the guards. Before they could meet with anyone though, there is an announcement from one of the floats and immediately the crowd surges around them cheering. Sans pulls Frisk close unwilling to be separated again, growling and moving them against the wall while the monsters and humans push around to get closer to the float. Music booms from its speakers and a fresh rain of confetti pours down on them.

 

He is so focused on not losing them that he hadn't noticed how close he'd gotten. His face is merely inches from theirs and he has to look up slightly to see eye to eye, the flowers on their skull make them look like an apparition, magical in a way he couldn't understand. He swallows nervously and turns his head to speak to the side of their skull.   
  


"I-I think we should go home. We can catch 'em later." Damn his voice, he’s shaking like an idiot.   
  


Frisk draws him closer, it makes his magic sparks their cheek but they don't flinch. Instead they nod and without thinking Sans tucks his head under their chin, huddling closer and shortcutting back to the house. It feels as if they'd jumped into water, the sounds of the parade are muffled from many blocks away, the crickets and frogs sing loudly but the house itself is quiet. There is no one else but them, for a moment Sans feels as if everything is contained in the space between them two. He doesn't want to let go, but doesn't want them to think he is being clingy so he loosens his grip, Frisk however doesn't pull away.    
  


"Thank you...for taking care of me." They turn their head and place a small kiss on the side of his skull. He feels a blush creep from his cervical spine up to his crown, they’d done this before but never when they were alone, never so gently.   
  


" 'S no problem." He mumbles.   
  


"There's no snow here, Sans." They say, slapping his back playfully before letting go.   
  


"Huh?" He says dazedly.    
  


"Wait, so that wasn't a pun? Wow." They place a hand on his cheek and then on his forehead, he blushes harder. "Are you feeling ok? If you just missed the chance to make a pun you must have a femur."   
  


They give him double pistols and a wink and it finally catches up to him, he snorts then laughs, they join in until his handlink's ringing interrupts them. They both look up at each other realizing the same thing: they'd forgotten to call the guards. Sans explains what happened to Ceres and the guards return, covered in confetti and exhausted but very happy to see them safe. After Frisk shares the information about the host with the guards and they make a report to Papyrus  the monsters spend the following hours cleaning up and sorting through the throws they got from the parade. Once they get ready for bed Frisk begins the arduous task of getting the window paint off of Sans' face.      
  


"I told you we should've just used regular paint." They try to sound annoyed, but comes off as amused instead.   
  


"What, and have my makeup smudge halfway through the party? I don't think so, darling." He says in his best Mettaton impression. Frisk snort-laughs and slaps his shoulder trying to get him to sit still.   
  


"Ceres already got his off with oil, I don't know why it won't work on you. If can't get this off you'll look like a creepy clown for the rest of the week."   
  


"Guess I'll be creepin round all week, then."    
  


Frisk shakes their head and scrubs his face harder. They seem to feel happier and despite his caution so does Sans, everything good about them was always too contagious, only now it was getting easier to give into the feeling.

 

 

 

Papyrus paces the office, stomping loudly and not knowing where to release his frustration any more than he already has. 

 

“It makes no sense, she was alone this entire time. What could have changed in just a few weeks?” he mutters almost to himself.

 

“We questioned him, he...really doesn’t seem to know. He actually started crying sir...I mean...I know Wallace an--”   
  


“WE ALL KNOW HIM, MILES! THAT DOESN’T MEAN-”  he catches himself when he sees his underling shrink away. “Sorry...what I meant to say was...how could she know unless someone in the force told her? We’re going to have to investigate our own soldiers. Our own kind is helping her and pursuing her further would only serve to prove her point but we must! IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO TO BRING SUCH A MURDERER TO HER JUSTICE! SHE CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH MONSTER’S LIVES LIKE THIS!”

 

“She will put us all in a bigger risk. Why can’t they see that?” the guard says sadly.

 

“Maybe she figures it’s worth the risk.” Says another voice, an old friend from Snowdin sent by the king to aid them. “I bet you anything that in her own crazy way she thinks this will help.”

 

“But it’s a risk we can’t afford, Doggo. Crazy or not she has killed fellow monsters and for that she will face JUSTICE! I WILL MAKE SURE SHE FACES IT OR MY NAME ISN’T THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” he pulls himself into a heroic pose, straightening into his full height. Doggo looks at him and smiles. 

 

“An we’ll be here to make it happen, boss.” says the dog monster tossing and catching one of his daggers in his paw. 

 

“No matter what, we believe in you boss! We will do the right thing...for all us monsters and for all the humans too!” Miles puts his paw in his chest fervently and Papyrus can’t help but to beam at both of them.

 

“I’m glad you are with me friends...Thank you! FROM THE CENTER OF MY SOUL, THANK YOU!”

 

The guards get a little teary eyed when the ex-captain pulls them into a friendly, back cracking hug.

 

“Now who wants to help me relay the news to my paranoid older brother?”

 

The guards share a look of desperation, knowing full well they can’t escape his bony arms they resign themselves to their fate and set up the projector.    
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and thank you for waiting! Thank you for sticking with me this whole time, this fic and your comments have been a source of joy and determination in these difficult times where I'm trying to make a new life in another country. Much like Frisk I've been running from one thing to the other and I want to use my determination to make the best of what i have right now. Hope this story helps you in some way too!


	41. Tastes like lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The monsters search for the jester, when Frisk finds him they will do everything they can to get him on their side...

 

 

Suffice it to say Sans does not take the news well, and neither do the others. Though they are fairly sure that Dahlia cannot possibly leave Wyoming without being seen, that is no guarantee of safety. For now the distance and their watchfulness would have to be enough. The fact she seems to have friends in high places is not doing them any favors but they still have a search of their own to lead and so they hunt for their suspect with newfound determination. 

 

The following days are filled with rumors and dead ends, they quickly learn their host is homeless and has no handlink or record to trace his movements, therefore they are forced to go by word of mouth and always seem to be one step behind. The alleys of the city and the marshlands of the country hide their secrets well. They end up in some of the strangest and most recondite places The Big Easy has to offer, even sloshing through the huge abandoned sewage canals that used to be part of old Guinee in hopes that one of the many vagabonds that take shelter there would be the right one.   
  


"Woah that's bad, I don't even have a nose and it's bothering me! I wonder where is it all coming from?" The smells brewing in the abandoned sewers were enough to make them queasy.   
  


"Heh there's some things yer better off not nosing kid."    
  


Frisk glares at him playfully and leaps over a particularly smelly stream of water, there's some stuff floating around in there they're not willing to let get on their boots.   
  


"Well here's one thing I won't miss about being human, that's for sure." They mutter.   
  


"Hey kid, how's it feel not to give a shit?" Sans gives them a grin, looking sinister in the low light even with napkin bits stuffed into his nasal cavity.   
  


Frisk wraps their free arm around his neck and pulls him into a hard hug, Sans is so surprised he slumps against them only to squirm when he feels them pry the paper out his nose and their knuckles scraping his skull. They noogie him until he almost cries from the bad smell and after they finally get some new information from the odd monsters that hang around here they go back to the safe house to clean up.

 

The more they hunt for him the more Frisk is aware they  can sometimes feel the jester’s soul when they're close; still that doesn't mean they can always trust the feeling to lead them. As the days crawl by their own anxiety of finding him makes the calm the host radiates that much easier to follow. They know they need to take break, staying wired for so long tires them quickly and they can't stand to worry their friends so much.    
  
  


 

In their pursuit they slowly come to see that the rumors that follow the jester wherever he goes all start and end the same: someone is dying of some horrible ailment, they run out of options or money or time and resort to illicit magic. Then a wandering medicine man pays them a visit, their ailment is gone but by the end of it so is their saviour. He doesn’t seem to ask for much payment, just a meal and to be left alone.  He's a local legend, a well known myth amongst the locals and though he is seen as an oddball he is also very dear to them and nobody gives out information easily.   
  


"Why ya wanna see the doctor? What you got?" The two skeletons had been talking to this lady for almost an hour and although she is very friendly, she isn't giving them any clues to his whereabouts. Sans is about to say something snarky at her but Frisk grabs his hand and he relents.   
  


"I...I'm sick. You see, I almost died once and these flowers...they helped me stay alive but now I'm stuck with them. I was wondering if the doctor could help me get rid of them so I could be a-a normal skeleton again." The sadness in their voice is genuine, not only because they are lying to her, but because they sometimes really do wish they could get rid of the flowers. The lady looks at them with pity, then glances down at their joined skeletal hands and sighs.   
  


"Sometimes he be at the old cemetery, cleanin up da graves." She ushers them closer. "He don't like being chased dat one, you gotta go in a small group, no cops." She nods her head in Ceres' general direction, Frisk thought she hadn't noticed him but apparently they were wrong. They thank her and chat with her a while before they make their way back into the city.    
  


 

 

They make an effort to visit the old cemetery often, combing through the convoluted paths amongst the graves and making sure the guards are out of sight when they do so, but either the jester is avoiding them or luck is not on their side because the days continue to slip by without a hint of his presence.    
  


"He knows we're looking for him, he has to!" Frisk sighs, on the other side of the projector the old jellyfish monster shuffles a set of cards.   
  


"Course he does, he's stayed out of sight this whole time, yah?" She says.   
  


"I guess."   
  


"We monsters are good at hiding. We had to be, to stay away from the humans. Maybe you should speak to him alone." Ika suggests deviously.   
  


"You mean...sneak out?" Frisk looks around to make sure nobody is within earshot.   
  


"Maybe...or why not make him come to you?"   
  


"How do I do that?"   
  


"You lure him in, using your sparkles!" She waves her hands, spilling the cards.   
  


"Won't that make Dahlia chase me too?" they wait patiently while she picks the cards back up.   
  


"Not from this far, no. She's still in Wyoming, sweetie. Besides you might need your power to fight her...when the time comes." They stare at the tarot cards, perhaps hoping to understand what she is seeing.   


  
"Did you see me fight her? Before I mean, like, will we fight in the future?"

 

"I think you might but I'm not sure, I didn't see that far ahead, it wasn't what I was looking for. Either way it's good to know a trick or two. What's your sparkie, flower buddy?"    
  


"I... I don't know. I don't think I've used it yet."   
  


"Are you sure?"   
  


"I think so, what does it feel like? To use that power I mean." They pull their journal close, hoping to take some notes.   
  


"It is different magic, yes? Like...like it's different to walk than it is to swim, you use strength both times but it goes different. Sometimes you better swimmer than walker, you know?" She laughs and flips a card from the top of the deck, staring at it before laying it down atop the others on the table.   
  


"I'm not sure...but I think I get it. Like the difference between white magic and color magic? When you fight you're making something out of it but when you're cooking you're sort of pouring magic into the food, without a shape... like sharing body heat..."   
  


"Yes and no. It doesn’t feel like monster magic does, that is part of you. Human magic is like talking to someone that’s very familiar to you. Your magic talk to them and they lend you power but they're living in your belly and when you ask for their help...they eat your belly." She says matter-of-factly.   
  


"Wait, what?"   
  


"They help you but they eat your magic, see? You ask for what you want but you can't control how much they take. They help you and then they charge you and if you're not careful...they take more than you have."   
  


"I get it, if I use the power it will suck away my magic, then I'll have to suck magic from other people, too much and I’ll kick the bucket; but how can I get better at something I don't know how to do?"    
  


"I saw you do it, a glimpse." She makes a vague gesture from her temples,it was  a vision then.  "You had a crown of flowers on your skull."   
  


Her words send a rattle down their spine, dreams and memories mingle with unease at the image.   
  


"When is that supposed to happen?"   
  


"Hard to say how soon, no way to tell with glimpses. But I tell you this, you were fighting hard, so train and be calm. When the time comes you do it right, just make sures you don't ask them for too much."   
  


"Ask who?"   
  


"Your human soul, if you ask too much...one of you will break." She places another card down with ominous finality.   
  


"Is that what will happen to me?" They ask simply.   
  


"Only if you let it, flower skelly." She smiles at them and continues to place the cards down. They look down at the cards thoughtfully then laugh, realizing she's been playing solitaire this entire time.    
  


 

  
  
The next day they mull over her words and wait for night to fall around them, after the carnivals toned down the nights went back to the drone of insects and frogs, so soothing by comparison. There were still parties here and there but nothing quite as loud; it was perfect to sneak as it was quiet but with enough background noise to mask their steps. They make their way to the bathroom, the only room out of sight from the cameras outside and use their eye to see where all the guards are, waiting for a gap in their patrol. When none presented itself they opt for firing a single, tiny pellet at the tree across the street making it's branches scratch the tin roof next to it with a sound like scraping claws.    
  


The guards react immediately and in that brief change in formation they leave the far side of the house, where the bathroom is,  open. Frisk's new handlink is in their room, the best guarded part, it’s locator is always on, so to the guards it would look as if they'd slept through it all. They slip out the window, dressed dark to blend in and carefully leap over the huge fence that surrounds the house, glad their body isn't as easily affected by barbwire anymore. Frisk lands quietly and runs down the winding alleys into the cemetery, their soul buzzing with excitement and nerves which make the soothing sensation of the other host's soul a shock when they felt it swelling merely a few feet away.   
  


"You came, flé. It's nice to see ya again."    
  


Just like that he's here, his tattered robe seems bright even under the moonlight, two long flaps are attached to each shoulder make him look as if his arms are hanging by his side. He runs his long black hands over a pantheon carefully and pulls some flowers from his pack to fill the vase, his pack is full of nothing but wild flowers.   
  


"Why are you avoiding me? I’ve been looking everywhere for you." The words slip out of Frisk’s mouth before they can contain them.   
  


"I 'pologize, flé. It wasn't mah intention ta make ya run in circles." His shoulders shake in quiet laughter or with coughing. "But I wanted ta talk ta ya...by ourselves."   
  


Without meaning to they tense, slipping into the practiced focus of fighting. He laughs a little louder tilting his head back at a weird angle.   
  


" I don't wanna fight ya, timoun flé, I wanna talk. Come, come." 

 

He waves his hand at them and they follow warily as he weaves his way through the spider web pathways between the graves. As they walk he starts to talk, almost absentmindedly about his day, his work as a witch doctor, and random stories about the town. Frisk observes him attentively, trying to gauge what kind of monster they are, his voice is elderly but he walks with his back straight as a rod albeit very slowly, he also coughs almost constantly, a weak and dry wheezing. As he walks he pats the graves on his way as if he can't see where he's going; when they talk back he tilts his head at them oddly, never quite facing the right direction and they think sadly that he must be blind.   
  


"Oh Mon Dieu, I forgot me mannahs. Mah name is Zunzee, lil one. What's ya name?" He says suddenly.   
  


"I'm...Frisk, my name's Frisk." They hold out their hand then realize their mistake, he can't see it. But he reaches out and takes it with no problem, tilting his head to the side slowly.    
  


"Frisk... Frisk. That's interestin." Zunzee holds onto their hand, taking in the kind but fierce glow of their soul and letting them see the vivid blue and green of his own. Though his magic is soothing, something about the way he acts makes them apprehensive. Both of them continue to walk, this time Frisk leading the conversation, sharing their own experiences as a show of trust. Maybe if they become friends, they can help him, like they did with Sans. They talk for a long time until he interrupts them with a question.    
  


"What happened ta him?"    
  


"To whom?"   
  


"Bliz, ya talking in the past tense...like he's no longer wid us."   
  


"He...he died. I mean..." They can't even make up a lie about it, it feels too wrong. "No, he didn't just die, he was killed. There's this monster... her name's Dahlia..." 

 

So they tell Zunzee about her, how she has hunted them all this time and about how she killed their friend, hoping that they can get him to understand the importance of his joining them.    
  


"I see. I heard somethin bout dis girl, from da town folk...dey think she be some sorta hero dat one. Fighting for our rights and getting blamed for murder while bein innocent." he laughs both bitter and amused.

 

"She's not innocent! She killed my friend! She tried to kill Sans!...and me. She's nobody's hero."

  
"I guess dere be lots of nobodies here den." He says sadly making them pause, considering his meaning for a moment. Frisk calms themselves with an empty breath and let him continue.    
  


"Folk think it's just a misunderstandin. It's happened before, so it's hard to blame em when that injustice’s been true for so many otha monstas. Even monstas have things dey want ta believe rathah than da truth. I'm sorry, Frisk." He reaches to them and uses one of the strips that hang from his cloak like to wipe their cheek. In the golden light of their tears they see his black skin is covered in many gray scars; he seems to have gone through a lot as well. It is then that they notice a faint light over the cemetery wall behind him and know that dawn is coming, they'd been here for hours. As if he can read their thoughts he nods.   
  


"It's time for you ta go." He pats their head, making them feel a bit like a kid.   
  


"I know...how can I find you again?"   
  


"Meet me 'ere Sunday, same time, alone please." He bows his head at them as if he's asking for some terrible favor, they sigh tiredly.    
  


"Ok, I'll see you then, Zunzee. Please take care."   
  


He laughs loudly at that, his mask shaking at the movement. "I will do that, flé, will do that."   
  


"Wait.” They grab onto one of the strips on his shoulder and he turns back. “What's flé?"    
  


"Oh...dat means flowah." He says with what sounds like a smile, placing his hand over his right eye then his soul. He nods and waves at them before walking away murmuring and coughing. Frisk watches him disappear into  a the city, vowing they won’t give up until they find him again, then runs home and sneaks back into the bathroom, just as Sans is about to walk in.    
  


"I'm here!" They exclaim as he turns the knob.   
  


"Shit, 'm sorry! Sorry!" He fumbles for a moment then slams the door.    
  


They sigh with relief and decide to take a shower while they are here, fixing some of their clothes to make them look as if they are clean before stepping out and going about their day; training and helping with the search, all the while pretending they don't know anything about the host. By the end they are exhausted, both from work and lack of sleep, but they carry on with the hope that they can convince Zunzee to join them if only they could find the right words to say.   
  
  
  


  
  
Planning their next excursion was difficult, but not quite as much as it was to pretend everything was the same. Whether it was the novelty of keeping such a big secret or their own overactive imagination Frisk kept seeing signs that they were getting found out everywhere. They are heavily aware of the expectant looks Antoine gives them every now and then, as if waiting for them to confess. The things Celty says make it sound as if she knew they'd snuck out the other night and Ceres is suggesting they visit the graveyard at night. 

 

Maybe they are imagining these things but they are certainly not imagining Sans’ change in demeanor. The worst of it comes from him, something about their tired anxiety makes him overly complacent; the two of them don't bicker over the dishes anymore, he let them choose what movies to watch each time and he actually knocked before coming into their bedroom when before he'd shortcut in without a word. It was becoming irritating.    
  


"Made you some rainbow quiche, 's gonna be ready in a minute." Sans peeks over their shoulder and rests his chin on the back of the couch. They’ve been reading for the past hour or so, a serious expression on their face clearly saying they don’t want to be disturbed.   
  


“Thank you, you didn’t have to, it was my turn to cook today.” they say, glancing up after an awkward pause and turning the page.

 

“I wanted to. Uh, whatcha reading there, kiddo?”

 

“Everlost.”

 

“Sounds grim, what’s it ‘bout?”

 

“About a girl and a boy-”

 

“Romantic, eh?”

 

“-that die in a car crash.”

 

“Uh, spoiler alert.” he says playfully, Frisk just shrugs.

 

“It’s not a spoiler, they die literally on the first page.”

 

“Damn, kid, why you readin this stuff?”

 

“ ‘Cause it's good, it’s about what happens after they die.” they reply, a little tense. 

 

“Gotcha...so you, uh gonna eat or what?”

 

“Or what, I guess.”

 

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll...put it away for you then.” he’s sweating and awkward, they can see his soul flickering oddly from the corner of their flower filled eye. Frisk closes the book, feeling their tension snap like a rubber band pulled too far.   
  


“Sans…”   
  


“Yeah?”   
  


“Just stop.” 

 

“Whaddaya mean?” his voice is shaking and that just pushes the last of their self-control to the breaking point.

 

“I mean just please...stop looking after me so much! You’re acting so different it-it bothers me!” They put the book aside and stand to look at him; taking in his sweaty face and the dark dents under his eye sockets.  “You’re not like this. I...we don’t play around anymore, you don’t even make any half decent jokes at me, you’re just going along with what I want and I...I just want you to just be yourself.”   
  


The delicate concern melts from his face, showing the true exhaustion underneath. This was taking its toll on him too. “I want to help. You’re...not ok.” he frowns at his feet, frustrated.

“Neither are you!” they say, knowing it’s true and feeling sickened by the fact they’re partly the cause.  “This isn’t like you to just follow me around. I want you to feel like you can talk to me, even when i’m feeling bad. Because that’s how  **you** make me feel when you’re yourself.”   
  


They can see a golden glow washing over his skull and they know their eye is throwing out magic into the air, but they don’t care. They need to tell him how they feel before the feeling weighs them down any further, they can’t stand seeing him like this. 

  
“ When you’re you, it makes me feel like I can be myself too, no matter how that self is. It makes me feel that I don’t have to ask for permission to be who I am. You...you don’t need my permission. You don’t.” they deflate and cover their face, ashamed of lashing out, of keeping secrets like they tell him not to. Overwhelmed by frustrations and feeling like they don’t really have any choice in all these things that happen to them. Can’t this be the only thing that doesn’t get torn away by all the running away they have to do? Can’t this one thing stay true?

 

“I get it… ‘m sorry.” he says suddenly at their side.

 

Frisk looks up to him from between their thin fingers, watching his hand pull their own away from their face. They take in the way he looks at them, the shard of blue in his eye is so bright they can’t look away as he wipes the tears they didn’t realize were coming from their face.

 

“I’m sorry too.” 

 

And they really were, because this time they would have to keep their secret a little longer, if only so they could do the right thing. 

  
  
  
  


 

Papyrus looks at Ceres with a severe expression, piercing even as a hologram as he waits for the guard to continue.

 

“Dere at it again, boss. We gotta keep the lookouts where they are so that Frisk won’t suspect us, but it ain’t easy.”   
  


Papyrus scratches the scar over his eye thoughtfully.    
  


“Just keep an eye on them, Mr. Zèl. Let them do what they do, they have an uncanny ability to get through to folks. Let’s just hope it’s worth their effort.”   
  


“What about yer brother, boss?”

 

The skeleton sighed, something he rarely ever did; Ceres tilted his head with genuine curiosity.

 

“When Sans needs to know, he will find out. For now it’s best he doesn’t...he won’t be able to control himself.”

 

“He is...very protective of dem.” the bird says tactfully.

 

“That’s an understatement! He is going to suffocate their affections with his paranoia!” he sighs again, this time dramatically. “I swear, sometimes I think the manual just goes right over his head!” 

 

“The combat manual?”

 

“NO, THE DATING MANUAL I SENT HIM!”

 

Ceres’ feathers puff up in empathetic embarrassment.

 

“Dating? Aren’t dey already…? I mean-”

 

“You’d think so right? With such a talented mentor in all things romantic as myself, it would only make sense that my brother also possessed the skills of a master of charm!”   
  


Ceres excused himself by saying he had to keep track of Frisk and barely missed the heated rant Papyrus was about to kick off in regards to his brother’s romantic incompetencies. The head of security then rallied the other guards stationed inside the surrounding houses, keeping a safe distance while they watched over the skeleton making friends with the witchdoctor. For as long as they could entertain the notion they would let Frisk try to convince him to join their side.

 

But they were all heavily aware that the king had given them a deadline and if things did not work out, the guards would have to intervene. Doing the right things wasn’t easy and many times it involved more lying than anyone really liked; the again lies by omission were not exactly lies unless someone happened to find the truth. Ceres hoped the truth of how little faith he had in Frisk’s peacemaking would never come into the light, because for all of their naivety their heart was something he refused to let break.   


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I had always planned this to end at fifteen chapters but I guess it's not gonna go that way. I'm not sure how many more chapters but there is one more host and one more country to visit before the big showdown with Dahlia. Not spoiling anything but there will be loads of action and crazy reveals so stay tuned and I hope you are enjoying it! However long it takes me I will finish it and I hope you get to the ending with me. Thanks for the support! 
> 
> (Everlost is part of the Skinjacker triology by Neal Shusterman, one of my favorite writers, it didn't inspire this specific story but it definitely inspired me as a person!)


	42. Life's mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk sneaks off to meet the green soul host, hoping to find a way to convince him to join their team...

 

  
  


That night Frisk was not making the guards' job easy, maybe they shouldn't have teased them because the skeleton was being extremely careful about not being followed. They wove through the alleys, seeming to know where they were going but taking the most convert route there, they looked around often and the guards had to rely on cameras or lookouts to keep Frisk from recognizing their souls if they got too close. Following a monster that could see magic was a challenge indeed.   
  


The cobbled alleys turned into dirt pathways as they made their way down to the bayou, Frisk wandered through the mangroves and mud until they reached an old willow tree that hung low over the ravine. They swept aside the swaying curtain of green and stepped inside, the guards knew the other host was there with them not just because of the EM scanners, but because the microphone they’d placed inside Frisk's jacket let them tune into their conversation. They talked idly about the medicine man’s work, the old monster explains everything kindly, as if he is really enjoying Frisks company, only Ceres gives him the benefit of the doubt at this point.   
  


"If ya really want ta know let me show ya what it is I do."   
  


The guards hear nothing more as the healer leaves the grove and heads back into the city, to the more obscure areas the guards would’ve never let Frisk anywhere near. Here it's much dingier, the strong smell of the swamp water mixes with the smoke of many cooking fires. The music is muted and the crickets louder, rats wander around them as if waiting for scraps.

 

It's a very different picture than the one Frisk had of the city so far. It reminded them of the slums Underground, where Bliz used to live...and where Dahlia must've lived at some point. Is this what it's like for most monsters? The peaceful streets of Jackson felt like they belonged in an idyllic dream, when monsters here were suffering the same as if they were still trapped under the mountain.    
  


They reach a small wood and zinc house no different from any other and stop before a backdoor so thin they can hear the conversations going on in the kitchen, Zunzee knocks and it opens quickly, startling them both. There is a human woman standing in the doorframe, her beautifully dark skin reflects the yellow lamp light from inside the house and though she eyes Frisk suspiciously she exchanges some words in creole with Zunzee and ushers them in. Frisk gets the uneasy sensation that they are doing something illegal, then again it might be the guilt of sneaking out rearing its ugly head again or the covert way the woman looks out into the street before closing the door behind them.   
  


The woman talks in a low voice, the edge of it tells of urgency as she leads them down the length of the shotgun house and into one of the rooms. Instead of a door there is a curtain covering the entrance, a single lamp lights a tiny room littered with toys. Wooden cars and dolls painstakingly carved from wood and painted in bright colors are strewn on a corner of the floor and fill a box at the foot of the bed. On the bed itself is a boy, no older than ten, breathing shallowly and sweating. The boy's eyelids flutter and his body shudders every now and again, but he is otherwise unresponsive. The mother's voice is anguished, begging as she speaks to Zunzee, she steps out to bring him a bowl of water and a rag which he uses to wipe the boy's face.    
  


"... What's wrong with him?" Frisk asks quietly after a while.   
  


"Dengue. His fever won't break, he wasn't vaccinated."   
  


"You can heal him, right?"   
  


"Fo' sure, but it'll cost me. Imma need ya help after, flé."   
  


His mask turns up to them as he kneels on the floor, from this angle he looks even more afflicted, the carved tear tracks seem deeper in the dimness. Frisk sets their mouth into a firm line and nods.   
  


"What do you need me to do?"    
  
  
  
  
  
  
When the familiar singing and clapping  starts Ceres calls all the guards to cease, Antoine is the last to stop the attack, already next to the boy’s bedroom wall and more than ready to break it down. Ceres flies to intercept them and orders them to pull back, their multiple eyes are glowing fiercely with magic and he grabs onto their arm, both as reassurance and for restraint.    
  


"It's ok now, dey'll be fine! Pull back, officer!" He whispers.    


  
The bug monster resists for a second more before backing away into the cover of the alleys. The second they are out of earshot they turn to him.   
  


"He's using magic! It'll put Frisk at risk, you said-!"   
  


"He's not using da human soul yet, calm yahself Mx. Scythes. Frisk is still safe, our orders are ta enable dem as far as we can...trust in dem and trust in us."   
  


The insectoid blinks repeatedly, as if stunned by their own reaction, before settling back into their usual collected demeanor.   
  


"Yes, sir."   
  


Ceres nods at them and they assume the new formation, closer to the house in case they really do need to intervene. He has to give the medicine man the benefit of the doubt a little while longer, even if it puts Frisk's safety at risk, with all that's at stake it's a gamble they can't afford to pass.   
  
  
  


Frisk stares at Zunzee as he turns his head up and sings, his body swaying. The boy's mother sings along from the doorway, a rhythmic chant that mesmerizes them, she claps her hands, eyes shut tight and weeping with fervor. Their souls are thrumming to the beat and Frisk feels their own fluttering eagerly, swelling with expectation.    
  


Is this what human magic feels like?    
  


But no, the green soul is inert, instead they can see his monster soul thrumming, building up its power. Frisk has never seen a monster use magic like this, it feels as if it’s coming from everywhere around them. The blue overwhelms the green and when the magic reaches its peak Zunzee stands and puts a hand on the boy’s chest, then something disconcerting happens. As he draws his hand away the boy’s soul slips out as if drawn by an invisible string, the chanting builds, Frisk watches in apprehension as Zunzee leans in. He turns his head upwards in a strange angle, and they watch in morbid fascination as he draws the soul closer to his mouth.   
  


“NO!”   
  


Frisk pulls him by the shoulder and a stream of pellets circle them both like a rabid swarm. They are not letting him do the same thing Dahlia did to _ him _ !   
  


Zunzee’s mask hits the floor with an audible clatter and the woman screams, pulling Frisk by the arm ignoring the pellets that violently pepper her body. Their magic dissipates in shock as they stare at his face, his eye sockets are empty; his face is misshapen with deeply carved scars as if someone had forcibly gouged them. But the most frightening thing is his mouth, his face hinges back like a croc’s revealing a toothy maw nearly as big as the mask behind which it was hidden. From the boy’s soul still held in his hand, a dark, sickening miasma flows directly into his throat, disappearing when his teeth snap shut. The lamp flickers and the boy's soul is nowhere  to be seen, they are too late. The sense of betrayal swells in them, painfully reminiscent of the time they faced Dahlia, but before they can act upon said feeling they hear loud gasp and turn to see the boy open his eyes. Frisk sags with disbelief, falling to their knees.   
  


“Manman?” he asks disoriented.   
  


“Mwen bebé!”    
  


The woman pushes past them and embraces the boy, delicately cradling his head in her arm. Frisk looks between Zunzee and the boy numbly, unaware of the rush of soldiers milling just outside the walls of the house. Ceres and Antoine stand at the ready to break in, but despite the commotion the readings still indicate that no human magic has been used...yet.    
  


“W-what were you thin-?” before Frisk can finish their question Zunzee topples to the ground, he’s shaking violently and there are ashes leaking from his mouth.   
  


His coughs have escalated to a violent hacking and Frisk, too confused to be mistrustful, scoots closer to tend to him. Their eye is still lit with magic from the impromptu fight and they can see his soul pulsing desperately. The miasma has flowed inside it and is spreading, like blood through the vessels, into his limbs. The woman finally notices Zunzee and starts talking to Frisk in broken english; but she’s talking too fast, they shake their head, then impulsively grab his arms and shake him.   
  


“Zunzee! What are you doing? Get up! Don't do this!” they can't process what happened, but he seems like he's dying and even in their confusion they know they don’t want that.    
  


His coughs grow more strained, breaths rattling out of his thin chest less and less. The human soul has begun to glow seemingly without any prompting, but its vivid green does nothing to soothe him, instead it seems to be eating at the miasma, chasing it down his veins like electricity. Frisk panics and puts their hands on his chest, willing him to calm, forcing him to stay. 

 

Their magic glows green and with it the flowers flow down their arms and spread over Zunzee's chest, connecting them. Their arms are the trunk and his chest the soil, the flowers are like roots letting Frisk’s magic flow into him until he’s stopped shaking. With a final bout of violent coughing he pats their hands and pulls away. The vines that connect them flex and strain but eventually snap and fall off, the mother stares between them talking in a low, awed voice.    
  


"...Mési...Frisk." Zunzee says, and something about the way he flashes his teeth makes them think he's smiling at them.   
  
  
  


After she makes sure her boy is alright the woman carefully  replaces Zunzee's mask and together with Frisk they move him into the only couch in the front room of the house. Frisk stops her and with some hand gestures convinces her to let them heal her too, by the time she comes back with some soup they are exhausted but their stubbornness to know what just transpired keeps them alert.    
  


"Are you alright?" They ask stiffly.   
  


"Yea...I'm aw'ight. Mési, mési." He coughs hard and pulls a rag from his cloak to wipe away the ashes that come up with his heaving.    
  


"You didn't heal him."    
  


"No, I didn't...not really." His teeth flash from under the mask, he's smiling and they don't know why.   
  


Zunzee doesn't say much after that, eating his soup quietly and Frisk doesn't ask; not because they don't want to know but mostly because they'd all had enough for one night. He looked pale and the human soul kept pounding hard inside his chest, sending out it's little green currents of light across his body. Frisk always thought there was something so bright and innocent about green magic, but Zunzee's only made him look sick and seeing how it bled through him made them feel sickened too.    
  


They talk for a bit and agree to meet again two days from now before Frisk escorts him back through the alleys and to the willow by the ravine. They are surprised no one even looks twice in their direction, even though they half carry-half drag the old monster all the way there. They never thought monsters capable of being so callous but that was probably one of the many bad traits they'd acquired since they emerged to the surface. They half wished some of the monster’s combative spirit would come back, just so they could demand better living conditions, but that wasn’t likely to end well for anyone.   
  


Frisk stays with Zunzee under the tree until a young man walks up to them. The skeleton is wary but the man seems to know Zunzee and offers him a place to stay for the night which the monster gladly accepts; so Frisk makes their way back home and goes to bed, so exhausted they can't even get up to train the next morning. Sans says nothing when they walk out of their room near noon but puts aside the handlinks he was working on and starts making them brunch. The food is delicious but Frisk feels something like nausea at the back of their throat and wonder if Sans felt this way whenever he kept something from them.   
  
  
  


  
  
Two days later, Frisk pretends they are going to bed early and sneak out only minutes after the sun has set. When they meet Zunzee back at the willow he seems to be back in good health, or at least as good as before which wasn’t all that good to begin with. He leads Frisk along the side of the ravine until they reach an abandoned hut. The small structure used to be a supply cabin for the pirogues that came through the river, but the river dried up and the cabin had been abandoned for years. It was the closest thing to a home Zunzee had, even if it was more of a pantry than a house. He offers them some tea and cookies and they sit on matching wooden crates to chat. Frisk goes along politely but eventually they give up trying to figure out the politest way to broach the subject of their interest.   
  


"How do you...use your powers? I mean, I thought you were using them on other people to heal them, but..."   
  


"It ain't wha ya expected." They nod shyly. "I do wha I can ta help, but it don't always work." He shakes his head sadly and coughs. "It does help me see dou."   
  


"See the future?!" They ask with child-like wonder. He tips his head back and laughs rather loudly until a coughing fit cuts him off. Frisk gawks at his mouth nervously, he may not have all his teeth at this point but those he does have are many, tiny and sharp.   
  


"No, no, lil flé. I meant see, like see da magicks around me, ta move around bettah." He gestures towards his eyes and their spine rattles at the memory of his face.   
  


"Oh, sorry."   
  


"It don't madda."    
  


"Do you think...these could be healed?" They gesture to the flowers writhing slowly under their collarbone.   
  


His head tilts to one side and then the other, as if regarding them before his hand  runs blindly from their shoulder to rest over their chest. They turn to him and he places his hand on their cheek, slowly running his thumb over the flower in their eye, he prods it much like Alphys had when she examined them. Finally he sighs and  backs away, shaking his head.   
  


"Dis be no malady ma friend, this be magicks."   
  


"L-Like a curse?!" All sorts of twisted imagery from their dreams comes to mind, suddenly making awful sense.   
  


"No, no, no. No such ting as curses, I mean yer not sick, dis magicks is yours. Dis be you." He says patting their chest as if to reiterate his words.   
  


"You mean I'm stuck with these forever..."   
  


"I mean yer blessed, flé." He pats their skull comfortingly but they don't understand. "Ya carry life wit ya, deese be part of ya. Real green magicks, not sometin bad. Da powah to heal othas tis a blessing ta have...when ya use it for good."   
  


"Like you?"   
  


"No flé, dis is not a blessing for me, dis...dis is a malady." He sighs wearily, placing the last of the cookies back in their tin container and clapping the crumbs off his hands.   
  


"Cause you have to absorb magic to use the powers, right?"   
  


"Dat’s true yea...I go where da magicks linger like at da cemetery and da carnival. I soak it up from da environment when I can but dats not what I meant."    
  


Zunzee says no more and Frisk waits. Before now the silence would’ve unnerved them, but after seeing him use his powers, knowing he could’ve easily taken a soul but hadn’t, they had developed a fair amount of faith in his experience. They hoped he could be something like a teacher to them once they convinced him to go with them.  The old monster fidgets around, pulls off his slippers and starts fixing the worn soles and patching them, Frisk watches in fascination how skilled his hands are despite being blind, practice they figure.    
  


"When I found dis soul I was very sick. I sat under dat willow cause I knew wha would happen ta me. I had no family left, no house, no cash an no medicine. So I went there just ta fall asleep and nevah wake up." He finishes one shoe and starts with the other, his feet are smaller than his hands they note curiously as they listen.  "I was Falling when I felt it. Dere was a child, cryin, I couldn't see em but I could feel em dere, dey were lost. I could hear em wit ma soul, so I reach out to dem until I could feel deir light... an it burned ma hand, slipped into ma body. It kept me here, made me stay even dou it was ma time ta go...an here I stay cause it's all I can do." He lifts one hand to his mask and scratches a spot behind it, Frisk eats the last of their cookie before the unease puts them off.  
  
  


"How long have you... I mean how many years has it been since you found it?" They ask.    


  
"Bout twenty or thirty...ya know how humans count be weird. But tis long enough." They nod thoughtfully and he seems to notice their apprehension. "Come, come, flé. I wan ta show ya sometin." He gets up slowly and leads them out of the hut, making their way back to the city.    
  


Some monsters and humans acknowledge Zunzee as they walk, all with the same respect and knowing looks that seemed to carry the secret stories of all the people he healed. Something like admiration glows in Frisk's soul, this is what it could be for the hosts, this is what it could be like for them. Their powers, whatever they were, if used for good could change people's lives for the better. Zunzee must see something in them because they keep seeing a flash of tiny teeth from under the mask that tells them he's smiling the entire walk there; there being the cemetery.    
  


When they arrive they turn to Zunzee questioningly but he nods and gestures them to follow him and they do so quietly. They wind through the graves and he walks precisely as if counting his steps, then they stop in front of two worn and small plates upon a stone sarcophagus. The gravestones are worn but smooth and clean, surrounded by candles and wild flowers.    
  


"Ma momma an me papa." He says simply, patting the stones in turn. The inscriptions are in french but they catch some words, like ‘kind’ ‘brave’ and ‘heart’.   
  


"I'm sorry." They say feeling like it's not exactly enough.   
  


Zunzee shrugs and smiles, pulling flowers from somewhere inside his cloak and replacing the old ones on the stone vase attached to the grave.   
  


"Nothing to be sorry for, dey moved on, like all tings do. Death is not da end ta us ya see...it’s not sometin I fear. I believe ya soul goes on, moving to da other side."   
  


"Like heaven." They put in, half a question half an answer.   
  


"Not exactly, lil flé. I don't really believe dat dere's a place of eternal happiness waiting for me...or a place o pain. Me thinks it's just 'nother place beyond, maybe not dat different from ‘ere."   
  


They nod quietly, mulling his words over. With everything that had happened they hadn't really given their beliefs much thought; dealing with their memories seemed a more manageable question than to wonder what would happen after they died. Was it really considered dying if you could come back?   
  


"So your soul goes on, even when your body has died." They say thoughtfully.   
  


Zunzee moves his head side to side as if to say 'more or less'.   
  


"Ya soul is a small part of da universe, a small part of what makes up everytin. Dat's the gros bon ange, wha we all share: life. Dat's da part dat connects all of us livin creatures. Dat's why we all end up goin ta da same place."   
  


He starts walking amongst the graves until he reaches a corner of the cemetery where a small maintenance shed sits alone by the cemetery wall. He opens his hand throwing some magic into the lock, it rattles then falls open. He pulls out a broom and a few rags, Frisk takes them and closes the door. They walk amongst the graves tidying them as Zunzee talks about Voodoo magicks to Frisk. Hearing him explain things that somewhat make sense in a beautiful way makes them yearn for the same. They wish they too had something to put their faith in other than their dreams.    
  


"Souls are still so different, though. Even the same soul changes, you know, as time goes by and stuff happens to them." Zunzee nods and waves them along to continue. "Does that mean all souls start blank and then they change when people grow up? Little kid souls are always so full of different colors and really bright but then when they get a little older they stay mostly one color. Why is that?"   
  


"Dat dere is ya spark." He says flashing his reptilian teeth.   
  


"Doesn't the spark come from the human soul I have?"   
  


"Nah, nah I meant wha makes ya, you. Dat ting ya have dat makes ya different from e'ryone else, yer special spark. Dat is your ti bon ange. Da part dat changes."   
  


"I get it, I think. Like how white magic is the same for everyone but color magic is individual. Souls are different colors but they're all made of the same things." This was starting to feel like a school lesson and Frisk loved it, it was much more engaging when your teacher is there in person and even more so when they are in the same situation as you.    
  


"Dat's right. Dat's whad I wanted ta tell ya. Dese souls we got, dis gift an curse is not sometin we should keep forevah. Tis someting we should give back when our time comes."   
  


"Give them back? As in get rid of them?" They feet pause, he doesn't know that all they have is this human soul, but this still applies to them.   
  


"I may not be able ta do it meself, but I tink...dey need to go back to da otha side. Dey don't belong here wit da living and neitha do I."   
  


"Because they were used to break the barrier." He nods at them and they find a secluded corner of the cemetery and sit on the low wall.   
  


"Da humans did a horrible ting to dese souls. Monsters die and deir soul goes away fast; but when a human dies that ti bon ange stays with da body for a week or more and it can be caught wiv magicks."   
  


"That's how they were able to use them." They'd already read about this but it still seemed too macabre.   
  


"Yah, and dat's a horrible ting ta do, da soul needs ta go away, to be severed from da body and live in da dark waters fo a year an a day so dat it won't linger here wid da livin. We monstahs used ta help humans do dis, many centuries ago, before da war and da cursed barriers."   
  


"What about monster souls? They don't stay here like that, why?"    
  


"Cause dey're not attached ta deir body dat long, our bodies fade fast. But ashes have magic an tie dem souls here. Aftah dey are detached from da living world da family keeps da ashes or spreads them at a place where dey want da spirit to cross ovah. When dey reach da othah side dey will journey 'til deir gros bon ange joins da rest of da Great Soul. Up dere wit all da Loa an our Bon Dieu." He finishes, his voice calm and pleasant.   
  


Frisk sits in silence, mulling over his words. From what they can remember death was not such a linear process, then again, was what happened to them considered death? Perhaps asking him what it felt like was little too much, so instead they offered their own experience with it. They tell him of their dreams and their nightmares, all under the naive hope that this show of good faith would earn more of his trust and his story.   
  
  
"I remember what it felt like, to die I mean. Everything going black then white...not knowing who you are for a moment and then you remember it the next. You just know that you're there but there's nothing else except you...you're alone but you don't realize it. When you're not alive it's like the world doesn't exist yet but you don't even remember that it used to...you don't remember anything or anyone really." They say heavily, he stays quiet for a long time before he finally replies.   
  


"Dat doesn't sound like death, sound more like Baron Samedi tipped his hat ta ya." He sounds curious but amused.   
  


"Who, Ray?"   
  


"Who dat? I dun know any Ray. I said Baron Samedi; he be da Loa of death, da gate keepah between here and dere aftah. He must like ya a lot if he pull ya back from da odah side so many times."   
  


He believes them, they let out a breath they didn’t need to be holding. 

 

"Or maybe dislikes me a lot. That whole coming back to life thing wasn't exactly pretty." Frisk says with distaste.   
  


"Change never is, tis painful always, but very, very necessary. Dere are many good things that came from it, I'm sure."   
  


They nod, smiling to themselves and thinking of all the things that had changed because of this. Had they not come back one last time they would've never become friends with all the monsters, they wouldn't have gotten to know Sans better, wouldn't have been able to see the difference their actions had made.   
  


"But me? I owe da Baron many things, cause he be calling mah name...an all dis time I've been ignoring him." He says heavily.   
  


"You're...dying." they state, knowing it's true.   
  


"Always lil flé. But dis lil one won't lemme go just yet." He taps a finger on his chest, over where the human soul resides.   
  


"Why? I thought if you used the powers too much they would kill you? You're always using it, then why?"   
  


"Ya don't see it da way it does but I am always feeding it and it be always healin me."   
  


"But I thought you were using your powers to heal other people, you're not healing yourself...You're always sick."   
  


"Dats because I'm not healing anyone...I'm eating deir disease and dis soul uses dat foul energy ta keep me here. I can't control it any more dan it control me. I know it's mah time already...but I can't let maself Fall when I know what'll happen if anyone else got deir hands on it." He says in a grim voice before starting another coughing fit.   
  


"Oh...oh my god, Zunzee."    
  


His words finally sink in and the creeping glow of the human soul starts to make more sense. They don't really know what could they ever say to comfort him, what could they do to help, so they stand and pull him into a hug. He laughs in surprise and pats their back heartily. They would find some way to heal him, definitely.   
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I bet people were starting to think I died and this fic with me. Sorry for the long hiatus, troublesome living conditions and movin to a new place took most of my proof-reading time but the writing train is on the march and rollin'. Double update and the new Tumblr for the artwork, mostly inks for now but I hope you enjoy them. Thank you for reading and for being a near constant source of DETERMINATION!
> 
> I hope to see you on the next one!


	43. More than words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intermission starring the lizard with all of the PhD's and the fish with all the blackbelts.

  
  


Undyne fights her sleep with the tenous determination of someone who's already surrendered, taking in the dark circles under Alphys' eyes, the dent where her glasses sit is deep and bruised. Carefully she removes the glasses from her snout and pulls the couch throw over the doctor, bringing her closer with one huge arm wrapped around her frame. The way the smaller monster leans her head onto her chest sighing lights her soul brighter than anything else.    
  


“You can carry her to the bed, you know? Even if she wakes up, she’ll just pretend she’s still sleeping.”    
  
  


Undyne frowns at the flower, annoyed he ruined the moment.   
  


“Unless you’d rather stay here and cuuuddle.” Flowey makes a kissy face at her.   
  


“Shut yer trap, weed.” she growls in a low voice, Alphys stirs and they both turn quiet for a moment.   
  


“You’ve forgiven each other, so, why haven’t you asked her out yet?” he says in a more serious tone.   
  


“It’s...not that easy...besides that’s none of yer business!” Alphys shuffles again and without thinking, she runs her hand delicately over her frill. “It’s too risky. I don’t want to hurt her all over again.”   
  
  


The flower huffs skeptically. “Then dont. Besides, it’s not like you did it on purpose, there was a lotta things happening at the time.” he shuffles his drone closer, scooting onto the couch armrest next to her. “I thought you said you weren’t afraid of anything.”   
  


“That’s a lie, I never said anything like that.”   
  


“You used to.”   
  


“...and I was wrong.” she gazes at Alphys thoughtfully, enjoying the warmth of her skin. “Getting my ass kicked by Papyrus taught me that. Being afraid’s normal, choosing to act despite fear...that’s what real courage is.”   
  
  


“Then show some courage and ask her out!”   
  


“It’s not up to me!” she catches herself before she raises her voice any more. “I’ve made my intentions clear already...It’s up to her if she wants to...try again.”   
  


“So you’re going to wait? That’s out of character.” he mutters with something like disappointment.   
  


The fish woman raises a scaly eyebrow at him, this kid enjoyed drama far too much.   
  


“I’m more patient than you give me credit for weed. Now go play yer stupid games and keep it down, will ya?”   
  


“Aye, aye cap.” he mock-salutes her and she rolls her eyes, then ever so carefully picks up the doctor and takes her upstairs to tuck her in. Undyne lays a kiss on her hand, leaving a piece of her bluish magic glowing there faintly.   
  


“Oyazuminazai, Alphy.” Undyne lays her blue hand atop her yellow one, like night and day, watching the magic mote float off into nothing. She sneaks out and closes the door quietly, getting ready to do a few more rounds in the house to check on the other guards before bed.   
  


“....Oyazuminazai Undyne.” Alphys whispers to herself long after the other has gone, cheeks blushing and mind reeling.    
  
  
  


  
"You seem awfully distracted today, doc. Anything on your mind?" Flowey smiles at her accross the workbench with uncharacteristic innocence, it must be sarcasm she decides.   
  


"I'm alright, Flowey, just a bit tired, that's all."   
  


"I bet, had plenty to think about didn't cha?"   
  


Of course she drops her pliers, not even coming to the surface had completely tempered her awkwardness.   
  


"I-I don't know what you mean."   
  


"I don't like to take sides, doctor but Flowey's right, you seem off today."   
  


An old human steps closer, neither of them heard him walk into the room. He wears plain cotton clothes and a long, trailing vest, but exhudes a quiet dignity that makes the simple clothes seem regal.   
  


"You tell her, old man. She shouldn't be messing around with things that can explode when her mind is busy-"   
  


"Flowey!"   
  


"On other things." He smiles at her meaningfully and she puts her tools down with a sigh.   
  


"I agree, safety first and all. Would you like to talk, Ms. Alphys?"   
  


Argyle looks at her pointedly, she knows she won't be able to ignore him and keep working since she can feel his stare on her. With a sigh she calls over one of her drones to pick up the tools and help her clear the table. Since they'd recruited the old magician into their team about a month ago he'd become a sort of parent figure. Though he followed their lead on the investigation about the barrier and the hosts, he had taken lead in dealing with these household conflicts.   
  


"Is there anything troubling you? Besides our work that is." He asks gently, noticing the way her eyes dart towards Flowey. "Young man, I would like to show the good doctor here the footage of the break in. There are some insights I have to offer."   
  


Flowey perked up immediately, something about the old mage calling him a 'young man' filled him with eager enthusiasm, as if he was trying to prove himself to one of the few old ones that didn't call him 'child'.   
  


"No problem, old man, it'll be ready in a minute!" He winked and scuttled away to the living room.   
  


Argyle turned to Alphys then, his smile patient and his gray eyes sharp.    
  


"I've...had a lot on my mind lately. The host search is one thing but the things in Dr. Gaster's journal...t-they're not easy to read." She starts.   
  


"He was...of questionable morals, is that right?"   
  


"Uh, yes. You could say that; he had good intentions but... sometimes he went t-too far for the sake of solving problems."   
  


"That's a line we all walk, doctor. We all have the power to change things, but just because we can make certain changes doesn't mean we should. It takes wisdom to accept that." He looks at her, his skin marked with age and the occasional scar. He's dedicated practically his entire life to the study of magic, and he had certainly seen his share of difficulties, not only as a scholar but as part of the minority that could use magic. Despite all the obstacles he's done all he can to help humans understand magic and bridge the gap that still lingers between them and monsters; Alphys is still surprised at how much he genuinely cares for both monsters and his fellow humans. If anyone understands what it means to use your abilities to help others, it's this man.   
  


"... I... I need some rest. Some time to think about-about other things." She tries not to blush but fails.   
  


"I understand dear. You'd do well to give yourself that time, even now. If you are not well you won't be able to help anyone." He places a hand on her shoulder but before she can reply Flowey all but skids into the work room.   
  


"Video's ready, Archie!"   
  


"Good job, Flowey. We'll be right over." The mage smiles at the flower who beams in return then lets the small monster lead them into the living room.   
  


On the screen is the footage from the break in at Toriel's house. As it plays the camera is jarred by the impact of Dahlia's body kicking off of the walls and by the magic and bullets that hit them, making it frighteningly real. Argyle pauses the video on the moment she is about to break the window.    
  


"This glass was supposed to be magic proof, correct?"    
  


"Yes, of course, we use electromagnetic currents to cancel out white and color magic. It's also bullet proof but she managed to break it s-somehow. It's probably that she weakened it with the bullets and then the magic finished the job. We didn't look into it more because we were so busy just trying to figure out how to track her." She takes off her glasses and wipes them on her shirt, not really sure if it's the same from yesterday. Did she shower?   
  


"Yes, but you might have missed something crucial here. Look at where the magic is coming from."    
  


They all stare attentively as the images slow down and Dahlia builds up enough magic to fire through the glass. Her arm swings wildly to the side and a light fires fast from it to the window, she slams a guard's body against the glass and then leaps through.    
  


"She shot it from her hand? So? What about that is so special?" Mutters Flowey, the video looks the same as it always did.   
  


"Look closely at the reflection behind her, please zoom into it." Says the old man.   
  


Alphys fiddles with the controls and manages to get a better image. They watch the light build up on her chest and coalesce into a ball that shoots out through the glass, though she moves her arm as if on impulse they can see now where the light is coming from.   
  


"It's shooting out of her soul! That means-!...Uh, what does that mean, exactly?" Flowey says looking between both of them.   
  


"It means she is using human magic." Says Argyle patiently.   
  


"We already knew that though. She stole the yellow soul, that fires bullets and gives you super speed." Flowey says impatiently.   
  


"Yes but there is something we missed." Argyle turns to Alphys who stares focused at the screen.   
  


"From the soul...when monsters use magic it comes from the soul and exits through the body but human magic i-it gathers from the body and comes out of the soul and-and..." The doctor mutters to herself for a moment, watching the video play over and over, Dahlia breaking through the glass. The glass she designed to cancel magic...the glass she designed to cancel out the frequency of monster magic.   
  


"S-she's using human magic!" Alphys exclaims jumping off the couch.   
  


"We already knew that, doc." Flowey drawls.   
  


"No, no, you don't get it, it's not working because it's not meant for it! The frequency is cancelled by it's opposite but human magic goes through because it's not the same frequency as monster magic! All the safety features we design to block magic only work for monsters since humans can't use aggressive magic!"   
  


"Not aggressive my ass, what about those soul bullets and the...'you know'?" She gapes at him clueless, Flowey makes an exasperated noise. "The Frisk thing."    
  


Her eyes widen. "Oh! Hai, hai, but those were, I-I mean they are, special cases. Haven't you noticed that in both, um, cases there was something extra? Humans souls bin monster bodies, two souls in one body." She pulls out her handlink and starts taking notes.   
  


"Indeed, our body doesn't express magic as yours do, it's impossible for us to make it solid directly, we need tools or to influence our environment, like your sibling would do with plants." The old man faces the flower, whose face turns serious.   
  


"Yeah... I get it. So a monster using a human soul is dangerous, it lets them do things they wouldn't be able to normally. If the reverse were possible that would be a problem too."    
  


"Preparing for one or the other isn't enough when it looks like our hosts can combine the use of both magics." Argyle says to them.   
  


"I need to call Papyrus!" Alphys gets up suddenly filled with productive energy. "Oh, we need to upgrade the security on the safehouse so that it blocks human magic too! And Flowey?"   
  


"Yes, doc?"   
  


"As soon as we finish this, there's something in Dr. Gaster's notes we need to discuss." They exchange a determined look and are about to head out when Argyle steps into the doorway.   
  


"That's all well and good but you still need a break, doctor. Send Papyrus a message and you can work on it tomorrow, I'm sure it won't take you long to fix the security. How about we watch a movie?" He smiles knowingly and she gives in with a sigh, taking off her labcoat and sitting on the couch. The movie has barely started when Undyne passes by, right out of the shower after her noon excercises.    
  


"Would you care to join us, Ms. Undyne? The movie is about to start." The old man tilts the popcorn bowl in her direction tantalizingly.   
  
  


"Yeah that sounds cool, old man." She grins and walks over, settling next to him and digging in.  
  


The movie is only fifteen minutes in when Argyle excuses himself, Flowey immediately gets up and follows him out. Alphys narrows her eyes when she sees the old man patting the flower's head with the sinking realization that she'd been played.   
  


"Paprika! Oh man I love this flick! I hadn't seen it in ages!"   
  


Alphys startles at Undyne's exclamation, which is basically a yell. The warrior is so comfortable she hasn't noticed they're alone, or maybe she has and is fine with it but Alphys can't help but feel nervous. They're sitting close now, sharing popcorn and watching anime, it feels sort of like a date, or a nexflix and chill kind of thing. Either way it makes her nervous. The movie goes on and she enjoys the varying expressions and genuine enjoyment Undyne is getting from this, it's like they're watching it together for the first time. Minutes pass, Undyne keeps on watching Paprika and Alphys watches Undyne.   
  


"Man, I'd forgotten they did this again. It reminds me of you." Undyne says, much quieter.   
  


Alphys turns to the screen and feels her soul lurch with that old, eroding self hate. It's the scene where Dr. Tokita, as a robot, is stuck on the building, like he was on the elevator. Alphys feels the ire burn bright before she swallows it and it turns into the sludge of self-depracation.   
  


"Yeah, the childish, fat doctor stuck in the elevator, t-that's me." She tries to use some of the anger to keep herself poker-faced but her chin wobbles and with it her voice. She's still just too easy a target.    
  


"WHAT? NO!" Alphys jumps, spilling the popcorn but Undyne ignores it and takes her hands in hers. "That's not what I meant. I mean y-you're like Atsuko! You're smart! And so frigging kind! You believe in all of us, so much!" Her yellow eye is blazing with magic, so bright Alphys can't bring herself to look into it. "You're an amazing monster! You see the best in others and you believe in them with the strength of a thousand suns!"    
  


When Alphys still won't look at her she lowers her voice and leans down to be eye level with her.    
  


"You have an amazing soul that cares for others, that believes strongly and that loves deeply. I'm glad I met you and it was an honor to be yer soulmate. I'm proud yer my friend, Alphys, I've always been."    
  


Alphys is shaking by the time she finishes and the tears that pricked her eyes come out, glowing gold with magic.   
  


"I-I misunderstood..." She manages. Undyne laughs loudly and a little awkwardly, reaching out and patting her head.    
  


"That's alright, I like being the one explaining things;and don't you dare think I'm insulting you! I've always thought yer the most sugoi! Now just pause that thing cause I totally missed the fight, I'm gonna get a broom."   
  


The guard gets up in a flurry of movement and heads out only to pause at the doorway when she hears a small, shy 'arigatou'. Undyne looks over her shoulder and smiles, feeling indescribable joy at finally being able to truly call herself Alphys' friend again. It didn't matter that they weren't dating because in the end, she wished for Alphys' happiness more than she wished to date her. If either of them could see magic, they would've been blinded by the two veritable suns of yellow and blue that were lighting up the room.   
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there ever was a shortage of AlphysxUndyne in this fic, that shortage has ended. I hope you enjoyed a bit of drama and fluff that wasn't all about or boney protagonists. Next up the end of the New Orleans arc and the start of the final arc! (Cue the overly dramatic music)
> 
> Hope you're enjoying the fic so far and thank you for reading!
> 
> Artwork is now available little by little on my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lohrhunter   
> (needs to urgently change the theme of the tumblr!)


	44. Thoughtlessly kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk reveals their intentions to Zunzee in a last ditch effort to get him to join, while Alphys and the others head back to Mt.Ebbot trying to find the truth about the barrier...

  
  


Undyne lifts the sectioned metal chair that Alphys uses for her magic examination and follows her instructions on how to fold it. The metal only groans once and it's only because Alphys made her laugh and she gripped it too tight. This time around they're moving to a new safehouse together and she fondly remembers the first time they moved into an apartment;they made a great team back then too.   
  


"So, is that all of it? I barely broke a sweat!" And it was true, even if that was partly due to the fact it was winter.    
  


"Hai, all that's missing is our clothes and stuff."    
  


"Pshh, yeah, but we can just throw that in the back seat."   
  


Alphys smiled and shook her head, once she would've compared this to the exciting playfulness before someone asks someone else out, like having a crush on someone and being quite sure they feel similarly. But this was different, both exciting and comfortable, she didn't mind if Undyne knew; she was just happy being with her. They were good friends again and Alphys was still enjoying that fact too much to give anything else much thought.   
  


"My clothes are packed, we can put them in the van now to save time. I really have to go call Papyrus." She fidgets with her handlink as Undyne slams the van door closed and they head inside.    
  


"Yeah, sure, I gotta finish packing all my junk, still got some stuff in the wash. You want me to go with you?"    
  


"I don't mind, I'm just going to-" A fanfare ridden melody blares from the handlink, speak of the devil, Papyrus is requesting a conference. An emergency conference.    
  


They scramble for the living room downstairs, Alphys trips on her way there, Undyne picks her up on reflex and after a shared glance, she carries the doctor down the steps at full speed. She throws her onto the couch easily, Alphys falls already seated and throws the handlink at her, which she catches in midair and slamdunks into the port. They grin like idiots and high-five each other, giggling, but their faces fall when the call finally comes through.   
  


"CAN YOU HEAR ME? Finally! I have something to tell you-NOT NOW MILES! TELL THEM IF THEY DON'T WANT TO FIND OUT HOW I GOT THIS SCAR THEY BETTER SIT TIGHT AND WAIT TILL I RETURN!" Papyrus is screaming, but that's normal, it's  the sweating that's worrying, Papyrus only sweats when he's distressed. His good eye is literally on fire with magic and the camera shakes as if he's moving to and fro.   
  


Something is awfully wrong.   
  


"The hell...?" Snarls Undyne.   
  


"NO TIME! There has been an attack, the guards have kept the news from Sans and Frisk, but they can't keep it up! Frisk has found a new host and the guards were helping them, even though they think nobody knows they're sneaking out, but we need to let them both in on the loop now because they need to LEAVE! This has gone into a terrorist level threat and we're-"   
  


"STOP!" Undyne roars, then says in a more subdued tone. "I can't understand what the hell yer saying, Paps!"   
  


"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt again sir, but the press says they want you to speak to them, now, sir."   
  


"MILES I SAID I'LL BE RIGHT THERE, CONFOUND IT! Undyne that's no way to speak to a fellow guard!"   
  


"Cut the crap dude, what happened?"   
  


"Dahlia attacked a convoy, released monster prisoners, she's a terrorist now. Frisk found the new host, the guards know they're sneaking out to see them but Sans doesn't and somebody needs to tell them both they're moving again because weneedtogetthemasfarawayfromDahliaaspossible!" He pauses to pant and they stare at him in horror. Undyne is the first to recover.    
  


"Ya got it, boss."   
  


"We got this, Papyrus! It's going to be alright!" Alphys nods firmly.   
  


He sighs and smiles, tiredly. "Thank you, my friends!" He nods then the call cuts off. They fall back to their seats, sitting quiet, processing what happened as Papyrus’ information files are transferred one by one into the handlink.   
  


"Do you want me to be there or...?"   
  


"Y-Yes, please."    
  


Alphys runs a hand over her head frill and Undyne pats her shoulder sympathetically, this is not going to go over well.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tommy knocks on the door for good measure, a sign of respect if he ever gave one, even if she is a warrior he still considers her a lady.   
  


"Come in, Tommy, ya don't gotta knock when I can hear ya comin from a mile away."    
  


He steps in and they share a sharp toothed grin.    
  


"They're ready."   
  


"Ya give em some good clothes?"   
  


"O course I did, Dahl, who do ya think I am?" He crosses his arms and eyes her with a mild frown, she's still wearing one of those guard pantsuits.   
  


"Right. Okay. Ya wanna help me out?"   
  


"Ya don't gotta ask. Ya sure you don't wanna change?"   
  


"No. I...I was a guard, an I still am, sorta. I don't wanna act like it never 'appened."   
  


He nods seriously at this and leads her out. In the spacious living room of Tommy’s hideout the meeting table has been set up, but instead of weapons or plans the table is laden with food. All the chairs are filled with monsters who, until recently, had been incarcerated. They look around nervously, muttering amongst themselves, until their eyes focus on her.    
  


"That's Dahlia Horne, the one in the news!" One of them murmurs loudly and they all join in some furious whispering. A few members of Tommy's gang stand around the room, but they're not really paying them too much attention, they're not here to intimidate or guard them, only to make sure they don't step out of line.   
  


"Well I guess ya don't need no introduction." Tommy says to her, the monsters at the table go quiet and stare expectantly but the only sits down and starts to eat.   
  


Tommy then goes around asking them their names and what they did before they were captured, as well as their charges. The next hour or so is a compilation of unfortunate and unfair stories, mostly based on false accusations. When they are done with their stories and the meal has been consumed Dahlia stands, they all wait in quiet anticipation.   
  


"Well I dunno what y'all are expecting but I'm not one ta make speeches an I don't really have anythin to tell ya 'cept for what I think."    
  


She starts to pace slowly until she stands next to Tommy, he nods in agreement and sits back like the others to listen.   
  


"Most 'a us come from tha mountain, or tha valley, or wherever it is yer barrier was, we all came from some sorta prison. We live in a different world now though, one where we’re supposed to be free...But we're not."    
  


The monsters grumble in agreement, the oldest ones stay mostly quiet and she continues.   
  


"We work hard an get paid lil, we can't live in certain parts an we get blamed for shit we didn't do. Now, after tha barrier was broken I was told we needed ta change the way we were, and I was all for it. No more gangs, no more killin'. I wanted to get better, and I did. I fit in." She pulls at her jumpsuit with a claw, as heavily aware as they are that being a guard just didn't mean the same as it used to.   
  


"But now, I see tha playing along just don't make a difference. What's tha point of doing tha right thing all tha time when ya can still get blamed for things ya didn't do? When people can deny ya a job because of how ya look. Tha captain taught us tha we should wait, that time would show everyone we deserve better an eventually tha humans would change their minds." She smiles a bittersweet grin.   
  
  
"And we can wait, oh boy can we wait. We live so much longer than they do anyway, eventually we might outlive all tha bigots. But why should we spend all those years being miserable? Why should I suffer when I'm doing tha right thing? I'm tired of waiting, I'm tired of being tha better man! I'm tired of taking ya folk ta jail, knowing ya might not have done a damn thing! I'm sick an tired of playin along with their bullshit fer nothin!" Her eyes blaze with magic then, gold and orange fire. Justice and bravery, all she ever needed and what they all they wish they could have.   
  
  
Tommy sees she's just about done and steps up, putting his hand on her shoulder and skillfully picking up the speech where she left off. "I'm done with their bullshit too. That's why I'm doin this. We're takin our power back, showing them we're not gonna get pushed around!" Dahlia takes his hand and removes it subtly, giving it a pat; she knows what he's doing, but that's just not how she does things.   
  


"I'm gonna do what I can to make a place for us here where we have the same power as they do. I'm gonna get my hands dirty and I know I'm gonna pay for it. Which is why I'm letting you go."   
  


"Dahl-!" Tommy starts.    
  
  


"No, Tommy. Look guys I'm not recruitin anyone into this mess, I'm fixing my fuck ups. I used to take folk like you to jail, I took humans too. I thought I was being fair, but this system ain't fair, an if it don't work then we need a new one; and I'm gonna try my damnedest to make sure we get it."   
  


"We have no where to go! Now that you busted us out we're fugitives; and ain't none of us gonna go back there." One of the older ones says.   
  


"It's not much of a choice, yer giving us, Lil lady."    
  


"It is, we're all used to hidin. Yer kind won't rat you out an neither will most guards, y'all know that. If you wanna walk away, you can." Dahlia says back, they all know it's true. Almost every monster that lives in the slums has had a run in with the law.   
  


"We missed our chance to fight back, all those years ago. It's not too late to fight now." Says one of the younger monsters leaning forward. The other young ones seem to agree and after some discussion the majority choose to stay and see how it plays out. What started as a vague idea is starting to take shape and the knowledge that she is no longer alone in her quest fills Dahlia with bravery.   
  
  
  


 

  
  
Sneaking around had gotten easier and easier each time, perhaps because the guards assumed them sick, an easy lie when you have huge dents under your eyes and a near constant lack of energy. That evening Zunzee takes them on another trip around town, this time with the young man they'd met before. His name is Laurent and though he seems wary of anyone new, he quickly takes a liking to Frisk's gentle and awkward demeanor. They go around the town, Zunzee letting Laurent lead the way through the various stores and back to the riverside hut, gathering ingredients for medicines.   
  


"Laurent here be a mage, lil flé. Show em how ya make da cold remedy boy, go ahead."   
  


"I'm startin to get da feelin yer makin me do ya job, old man." Says the young man with a dazzling smile, but he does so nonetheless. He works hard at a little field beyond the river where Zunzee keeps his herbs, cutting and prepping them to be brewed and leaving the others to hang on a clothes line behind the hut.    
  


They go to the front of the hut by the river and Laurent gets the cooking fire going, he starts picking some herbs from one of the crates he brought from inside and starts piling then inside a mortar, crushing them together with some colored powder. He puts everything into a little pot that hangs over the fire and they talk while he stirs it. The smell is strong but not unpleasant, they can smell honey and lemon but also something very much like peppers in it. Frisk can see they man's soul glowing brighter and brighter as he stirs, his soul is a charming shade of dark green. The magic he's brewing slowly seeps into the liquid and though taste is sharp and spicy they can feel the magic seeping from it as soon as they close their mouth.   
  


"Wah! What’s in that thing?" they cough.   
  


"Lotsa peppers flé!" Zunzee replies, throwing his head back and laughing, Laurent snickers and starts to pour the remedy into a large glass bottle.    
  


The feeling of magic does not ebb, it is earthy and solid, as if it were slowly becoming a part of their bones, this was human magic then. It was subtler but they could tell it would last longer than monster magic, which dissipated immediately when consumed. There was something constant about it even if it’s effect didn’t feel as immediately powerful, persisting is also a strength when it comes to magic. Laurent heads into the hut to put away the cold remedy, Zunzee must’ve sent him on an errand of some sort because after picking up some herbs he says goodbye and heads back into town.   
  


“He’s a good boy dat one, good healah, just like you flé.”   
  


“Thanks...Zunzee, there’s something I want to ask you. I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while, actually it…” they didn’t know how to say it. Come with me and leave all your life behind? Leave all the people you care about? They could ask Papyrus to protect him but the king had said they wanted to keep all the hosts together and that meant they would have to take him away with them and Ika and eventually the other hosts. ‘Come be trapped with me?’ would seem more appropriate.    
  


“Ya can tell me anythin, Frisk. No judgemen here.” he pats their shoulder and they take a breath and just say it.   
  


“I want you to come with me and my friends. To live with us...and to travel with us. They are-we are trying to find the hosts before Dahlia gets them. She’s...she’s hunting us down to take the human souls. That’s why she killed my friend...to take the human soul from him. There’s another one an old lady, you’re gonna love her she’s-”   
  


“I'm sorry but I can’t, lil flé.”   
  


“But...I know it sounds weird but my friends will help, I mean Alphys is so smart she might find a way to help you so you’re not sick and they can protect you from Dahlia so she-” he places his hand on theirs, they didn’t realize until he held it firmly that they were shaking.   
  


“I get it. We need ta be kept safe from her, if she or anyone else takes all da powah, it would be a nightmare. But ya don’t get wha I’m tryin ta tell ya. Imma be crystal wit ya, Frisk. I don’t want ta keep it.”   
  


“What do you mean?”   
  


“I want ya to take dis curse an turn it to a blessing, mon flé. I want ya ta free em, and me 'cause I can’t do it mahself.”     
  


When they realize what he’s asking Frisk shakes their head, forgetting he may not see them, but he must because he nods back slowly.   
  


“If ya call it, it will go wit ya. Dis child an I need ta be free from each otha an I know...its mah time ta go.” he says, before starting another coughing fit.   
  


As it passes he takes their hand and puts it on his chest. Under his skin they can feel the fizzling warmth of the human soul, on the verge of emerging from his chest. Frisk knows what he says is true, knows it in the way the green soul seems to call to them, waiting for them to have it, knows it without having to understand why. But they also know that without this Zunzee will definitely die and that the freedom he’s asking for is something they’re not sure they can give him.   
  


“You can’t-I can’t do this...and you can’t leave the town, they need you.”   
  


“Dey don’t need me, Laurent does most o my jobs now. People don’t need special magicks ta heal, dey need ta help each otha. Dat’s not somethin magicks can fix, flé.” he smiles bitterly and his fingers tighten over theirs. “Dis is somethin ya can give me, ya can give me peace, and I know that ya can give it ta them too.” He gestures between both their chests, smiling and the realization hits them.   
  


“I don’t know how to free the human souls, I mean we’re just going to keep them safe until...until…”   
  


“Nothin lasts forevah, not even magicks. If dey were once free dere must be a way ta free em again. Find dat, save dem. I know ya can. Ya be kind Frisk, dat is yer strenght.”    
  


“Thank you...I will try, but I want you to come with me, please.”    
  


He shakes his head and their voice starts to waver with desperation. Why the hell is he so calm? Why is he smiling?!   
  


“I’m in so much pain, flé. Do be kind ta me an let me go. I’ve waited so long for someone I could trust, someone who wouldn’t use dis for demselves. I know ya will do da right ting, I believe ya be doin good. So just call it fo me an let da Baron call me.”   
  


He starts to cough again, there are ashes in his mouth again as he lays back against the willow and smiles, waiting patiently. They cry openly now, holding his hand as the green soul sickeningly pounds against his chest, trying desperately to get out. They refuse to call it, they refuse to let him die. But is it really any more cruel than letting him live in constant agony? Which of the two is really the most selfish?   
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
“Ya alright, Alph?”   
  


“I-I’m not, but I’m ready to do this.” she says, looking up at Undyne. The guardswoman's soul swells with pride, then they turn on the camera and face everyone.    
  


The camera points to the living room where two guards and Sans sit on the couch. Sans sits off the side his head propped on his chin as if bored, but his feet tap the floor impatiently, Celty sits front and center as the stand in supervisor and to her right another guard nods at Undyne in greeting. After some quick and clipped pleasantries Alphys clears her throat, feeling her resolve steel when Undyne places a hand on her shoulder.    
  


“I-I have news from Papyrus, there’s been a...situation.”    
  


Sans’ eyes flick to her immediately and the light in them fades more and more as she explains, by the time she finishes, his sockets are empty. Then unexpectedly he scrunches his face and lets out a guffawing laugh.  
  


“The hell you talkin bout Alphys, they’re right there. They’ve been sick this whole week, can’t even train or anything, I don’t think they have it in them to be sneaking out!”   
  


“Sans-”   
  
  


“Look, their handlink is right there.” he shows her his phone, where a map shows Frisk’s position merely a few feet away in the room. Alphys’ face twists with distaste, she used to track all her loved ones like that and she and Sans had long agreed that was distasteful. “Don’t gimme that look, I know what Paps thinks about me hacking his shit but-”   
  


“SANS! Listen to her, they’re not there! Ceres and Antoine are with them! Ya need to talk to that little punk and get them back to the house before that crazy bitch finds out where they are! Drag that other host with if ya have to, I don’t care what you do, get that kid back in the safe house, dammit!” Undyne yells, losing her composure, there was no time for this nonsense.   
  


“Don’t fuckin yell at me! What’s wrong with you two?” he growls frustrated, he’s about to leave when he feels something pull on his jacket. He turns scowling only to have to look down at Celty.    
  


“Mr.Sans, they are correct. Under the king and your brother’s orders we have enabled them, they are trying to convince the host to come with us as we speak.”   
  


“The hell…?” he tugs his sleeve free from her tiny hands and she lets him go with a sigh.   
  


“We will bring them home now, you have my word. Until later, Dr. Alphys, Guard Undyne.” she nods to each respectively and flies off after him.   
  


Alphys and Undyne exchange a look then stare after Sans, they hear him knocking on Frisk’s door, calling to them and it becomes too much. They say goodbye to the other guard and give the pilot the go ahead to take off and watch the islands of Japan grow smaller and smaller beneath them. Now all they have left is to break the news to Flowey, but that is something they are better off doing once they reach Mt.Ebbot.   
  


After calling and texting and a whole lot of polite knocking Sans opens the door, seeing the bundled sheets and knowing there’s nothing under them. He hears the distinct chime of a voicemail and he walks over, eyes empty, unlocks their handlink and puts it to the side of his skull.    
  


"Yo, Frisk, it's Dan the man, I uh...are you running the Summon stone campaign with us? You haven't logged in for a while and I know you're busy but send me a text when you're free, we can get the guys together. I hope you're ok, uh ok bye!"   
  
He moves on to the next one, Frisk has at least three more messages from their friends and one from their history professor, everyone seems to know something is wrong. The last one is from Sylvia, so of course he listens.   
  


“Hello, Frisk, this is Sylvia. We haven’t talked in awhile, I read your e-mail and some of the questions you were asking are troubling me and I think they might be troubling you quite a bit too. Whenever you can please give me a call back so we can talk about this more thoroughly. Stay safe and take care of yourself, alright? Well, I’ll speak with you later, bye.”    
  


He puts the device on their bedside table, next to one of their fantasy novels, at this point his claws are shaking.   
  


“I know where they are...they need you Mr.Sans. They need all of us.” Celty says with conviction.   
  


Sans feels his eye light on fire and he turns to her but instead of anger the growl that leaves his mouth is bitter with sadness.   
  


“Take me there.”   
  
  
  
  


  
Frisk watches Zunzee grow weaker, coughing and breathing raggedly, he holds their hand and nods slowly when words fail him. There is a peace to his demeanor that was not there before, like he’s let go of something heavy and is prepared to move on. Only they are not prepared to let him go. How can dying be a thing that brings you peace? But how can he be at peace living like this?   
  


Even now they feel the human soul trying to preserve him, he’s fighting it, but it is itching to run through his body again, to reawaken all that yearns to sleep in him. To bind him here, the same way they are bound to this world; this that he has now, it is not peace. Frisk can feel it calling, like he said it would, at the edge of their consciousness, just like Chara called to them in their dreams. A wordless plaintive call that is more feeling than sound, a yearning for company, an offer of a truce.

 

The green is barely contained in his chest, all they have to do is acknowledge them, all they have to do is let them in. They feel him losing himself, his hands start to turn gray, the soul presses against his own more persistently, he can't hold them off any longer. Then Frisk opens the door and though they expect them to rush in, the way they leave him is gentle, as is the way they step inside. It is then Frisk realizes that offering a parting peace is also a form of kindness.    
  
  


When Laurent returns barely an hour or two after, he finds Frisk crying under the willow. He knows without having to ask that the hougun has passed on, and that the soul of kindness has a new host for he can feel the excess magic building inside Frisk already. When he comes closer they turn to him startled and he stares in wonder at the tears streaming down their cheeks and the motes of light that fly out of the flower in their socket. Yellow and green, beautiful and gentle. He places his arm around their shoulders feeling their bones rattle, then reaches out and pats Zunzee's robes, that are now filled with sparkling gray ashes. 

 

  
"He be well on his way now, the Baron will be holdin da gate wide open for him. He deserved his rest, thank you." Laurent is smiling, a wide smile, even though he's misty-eyed.   
  


Frisk tries to understand but though it was ultimately peaceful, they cannot help but feel terribly sad. For all the moments they shared with him, and the many others they'd never get to see. Had things been different, if they'd met at another time then maybe...Their soul lurches painfully, something stirs inside it with a familiar sharpness. It feels just like one of their nightmares. But then Laurent calls their name and pats their back to comfort them and the feeling retreats, leaving just a phantom pain in their ribcage and making the flowers inside squirm.   
  


"Try to feel bettah, whad ya just gave him is a gift. He'd asked me ta take the burden of dat soul from him, but I couldn't. Ya have a good soul, I'm glad da power’s yours."    
  


Frisk nods but before they can think of what to say they hear a child calling out nearby. They both turn to see the same woman from the other night, her little boy is with her; running their way looking bright and healthy. Laurent stands up and speaks to her in creole, her expression turns serious but peaceful, they approach slowly now. Frisk wipes their face with the back of their hand, trying to cover the ashes from view. They stop a little ways away and talk to Laurent for a while longer then she looks at them and gives them a faint smile before leaving, the boy holding her hand.   
  


"Da people will come soon. Can ya stay wit us til we say g'bye?" He asks softly.   
  


"I want to stay." They say, voice rough with emotion.    
  
  


 

  
  
Sans looms behind an old crooked willow farther up the ravine, Celty is right by his side and his eye tells him the other guards are not too far away. He watches Frisk release the soul from the host, watches the monster turn to ash, watches them mourn. He feels disgusted with himself for not stopping them, and a creeping familiarity with the scenario. Only the morbidity of watching them suffer as a spectator is much more painful than it was before.   
  


 

He listens to their conversation and then their crying,forcing himself to bear it. They’d all been hearing them go through this, build up to that choice, he understood why they made it, he would've done the same and yet...he can't stand it. Frisk shouldn't have been brought to the point where the had to help someone kill themselves, this was not what he wanted for them.    
  


His choices mattered little when they seemed to be fated to suffer.   
  


Sans swallows his anger and frustration for now, it won't do anyone any good at this point. He watches as a group of people make their way down to the ravine, he inches forward but Celty holds him back. Their orders are to protect Frisk without interference until they secure the host, they have the host and are in no immediate danger. They choose to stand back and let them go through with it.    
  


The humans gather in a circle, letting Frisk be a part of it as they begin to sing around the pile of ashes. Sans realizes they are sending him off, this is the beginning of a funeral celebration. Laurent leads Frisk in gathering the ashes, they pour them into the robes and tie off the tassels to make it into a sack. The gathering crowd parts to let a pair of men through, they are carrying a plain wooden coffin; one by one the people gather flowers, from the riverside or from the braids in their hair and place them inside. Then the young mother and Laurent arrange the sandals and the robe full of ashes in the middle of the coffin, her little boy places a worn straw doll inside before returning to her side. They are done and the song begins to fade when Laurent picks up the mask thoughtfully.   
  


"It should have a smile, it goes wit him bettah." He says, tracing his finger over where the mouth would be on the mask.   
  


Frisk takes it from his hand and carves a smile on the wood with their sharp fingertips, together they put the mask in the coffin. There aren't enough flowers to completely fill it and the image is somewhat sadder for that; so Frisk sticks their hand into their shirt, pulling out the flowers inside their ribs in clumps and placing them in the coffin. They take a fake breath in then let their magic seep out into the plants; putting everything they have into it, the joy, the sadness, the inevitability, the way they still miss Bliz and their desire to remember.

 

It flows freely out of them like blood from a wound and the plants soak it up like water, spreading inside the coffin and pushing up the contents until they are tangled with everything inside and almost over flow, turning it into a bed of gold. Then as an afterthought they spread their hands and dip them in, as if gathering water, pulling magic into their fingers to make a crown of golden flowers that they place on the mask. Like Laurent they manage to smile through their tears and let their voice join the song that clearly rings as goodbye.    
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
"This is..."   
  


"Not what I was expecting."   
  


"I d-didn't think...um..."   
  


"So do you want reading or not? I'm going to put it in the closets!" Ika warns slapping her tentacles on the small tea table that's set up with a crystal ball, candles and tarot cards.    
  


Alphys and Undyne exchange a look, then are interrupted by Flowey scuttling into the room.   
  


"Why are you just standing there? Let me unpack and-oh, it's you. Old crazy lady." He acknowledges her with a nod.   
  


"Bratty prince flower." She nods back.   
  


"Excuse me ma'am, I know we had spoken before on the handlink but I believe introductions are in order. I am Argyle O'Harris, magician and scholar at your service." He steps up and shakes her hand, which makes her giggle.   
  


"Ika Baba, fortune teller and host. Good to meet someone with some manners! Do ya want me to read your fortune?"   
  


"I am grateful for your offer but I believe it best you save your powers for our mission."    
  


"Yah, yah. I have too much right now it won't hurt to take a peek."   
  


"Another time, perhaps. We are going to be unpacking for now, I'll be seeing you, ma'am."   
  


She nods and walks along with them as they unpack their things, they have finally made it to the old lab under the mountain and there is much for them to do and not all of it pertaining their research.  There are more than a few pending conversations. Undyne goes on patrol with the rest of the guards immediately after helping Alphys unpack her machinery and Argyle prepares to start his research on the barrier leaving Flowey alone with the old squid.   
  


"So...I see you're still trying to make business out of that, aren't cha?"   
  


"No business, I'm on a mission! Do ya want to know your fortune little prince?"   
  


He stares at her, a cold anger apparent behind his thinly veiled playfulness.    
  


"I don't like your riddles old lady, it always sounds like you're scamming people. You're too vague!"   
  


"Ok, I be plain with you. What do you want to know?" She plops to the floor then and there, holding out her hands, now they're at eye level. Flowey looks down at her hands then slowly back to her eyes.    
  


What does he have to lose?   
  


"You better be, old lady. I don't trust you."   
  


Ika smiles and wiggles her hands, he frowns and slowly places his leaves in her hands, letting them slowly stretch into paws, stepping out of the drone as Asriel.   
  


"There's the little prince." She smiles wide, his more expressive face does nothing to hide the sadness in his eyes. "What do ya want to know?"   
  


"I want...to help Frisk, so tell me what I have to do to make that happen."   
  


"I tell you everything I see, when you're ready."   
  


"I'm always ready for the worst, go ahead lady." His lip curls in a snarl as if challenging her, she smiles and nods. 

 

When she looks back up her eye is open and shining a fierce blue. Flowey feels a familiar sharp lurch, the blue magic is lifting instead of weighing him down and the solidity of it brings back the painful memory of their sibling. His soul is lifted yet leaden with the memory of the feeling of human magic.   
  


"I see pain...not too far from now you will find out...something life changing about yourself...and something about Frisk too. When they find the truth they will shatter and when that time comes, you'll be...their strength... you're such good friends, such a good friend." She is crying for some reason, looking at him but somewhat unseeing. "You both will face truth, but it's maybe easier for you... doesn't make it easy at all though, not at all..." She shakes her head and she squeezes his hands.   
  


"What about Dahlia, is she...can I keep them safe? Can we stop her?"   
  


"You can't."   
  


"Fuck it! Why are you telling me this? If you knew they would lose why didn't you tell them before?!" His face distorts, mouth snarling with twisted teeth and vines ripping from his fake clothes and fake fur.   
  


"Because that's Frisk's fight...not yours. Your fight...is with yourself, flower prince." She smiles again and his body calms, though his soul keep pounding in his chest. He feels an overwhelming urge to slap that smile off her face, almost as overwhelming as the urge to be hugged by her and cry.   
  


"Don't believe everything I says, destiny is up in the stars but your fate is in your hands...leaves." she amends looking down at the vines in her hands before he withdraws them.   
  


"...thank you, old lady." He says softly as he turns away.   
  


"You're always welcome, Flowey."    
  
  
  
  
  
The host’s funeral turns into a festivity of sorts, monsterfolk and townspeople come to visit the coffin, sing and to pay their respects. Folk of all walks of life bring food and gifts to the party and share their stories. One of the artisan's, whose arm was healed by Zunzee is carving him a headstone to place it in the cemetery with his parents' and one of the troupes from the parade were planning to add his mask design to their float. Zunzee was a part of the town, a secret yet precious part that deserved to be celebrated and preserved. As the night wears on Frisk decides to head back, Laurent see this and convinces the others to follow them out for one last good bye. Though the prayers and song would go on through to the morning, he knows Frisk would have no other chance to see him off.   
  


The young apprentice carries the ashes and like a procession the crowd goes into the town, through the back alleys and into the bayou, following the dried up ravine until they reach the old willow tree. Their songs start up again and swells to mix with that of the frogs and crickets. Colored candles and clapping hands, they let the ashes fall at the roots of the tree and watch the wind carry them into the night. The tree sways and so do the people around it, sending off the kind healer and the old friend to the other side where suffering really is just a memory.   
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp hopefully this is the start of another weekly update schedule. Things are hectic here in the city, I hadn't felt estranged until now that i am unable to help my family in the aftermath of the hurricane. I hope that all the readers with family in the Caribbean, Florida, Texas and all the other places hit by the storm will find strength and solace. Thank you for reading and for being patient with my writing. Best wishes and see ya on the next one.
> 
> (´･＿･‘)


	45. All the Necessary Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral procession and plenty of confessions to go with it. Frisk heads back to the safe house after saying goodbye ready to face the truth, only, is Sans willing to face it with them?

The air is heavy, despite the song and dance that does its best to wash away the loss and lift the old monster's soul far into the other side this is still a funeral and these people are still mourning. Like Frisk so clearly is.

 

Celty flutters next to Sans' skull tapping his shoulder to signal they should follow Frisk back. "Your brother wants you to tell them we are relocating, Mr.Sans. We can do it if you don't-"

 

He takes her hand in his bony claws and turns to look at her with empty sockets. "Not a damn word." He lets her go not wanting to step out of line, then turns around to glare at the other guards. "I fuckin mean it, don't tell them anythin. They have enough shit to deal with as it is. Start packing."

 

Celty nods sharply and together they watch the funeral goers return to Laurent's house to finish the party until Frisk slips away to sneak back into the safe house. It's a while before they get out of their room and when they do they immediately slip into the shower, leaving Sans by himself in the living room pretending to work on his handlinks. He sighs in relief, he wasn’t really ready to face them either.

 

Frisk spends a long time in the tub, staring at their bones soaking, their ribcage almost empty save the two souls glowing inside. One yellow and one green, one heart pointing up and the other down, they wonder idly what would happen if they could use their own human soul. Would it kill them? Or would it be natural because it is their own soul? They swirl their hand in the water making tiny motes appear, waiting until they turn into flowers floating idly. They watch the plants take their place back in their ribs, slipping into the gaps between their bones naturally and for the first time the sensation doesn't make them uneasy.

 

...

 

Alphys and Undyne finish packing the last of their supplies rather early and prepare to head out, planning to make the best of the time they have to investigate the barrier. Though the lab is a fortress of technology and security they don't feel comfortable having one of the hosts back where Dahlia used to live; they make sure Ika is safe before they meet up with Argyle and head out.

 

"Did she try to read your fortune, old man?" Undyne asks, stretching her muscles, always prepared for a fight.

 

"That she did, yes. It was a rather interesting experience."

 

"Oh, no, she didn't tell you anything bad, did she?"

 

"Not at all, doctor. I found her charming despite her confusion. She is very adept at using her powers and controlling the fallback of her...condition. I think you may need to give her more credit." he says with some amusement.

"I'm not sure her powers are, um, reliable I guess. She said that she can't exactly predict things." Alphys looks up at him doubtfully as he laughs.

 

"If our fates could be so easily predicted I'd find it quite depressing. The possibility of change makes everything more interesting and perhaps more hopeful, wouldn't you say?"

 

Alphys smiles and nods, she hadn’t thought of it that way, she figured they could use those powers to end their mission; but he as usual Argyle tries to see the bigger picture. She tried to be positive and think that even if Ika predicted their doom, at least there was a possibility she might be wrong, she also tried very hard not to think the opposite. The three of them take the tools with them and head out to the depths of the Capital, cutting through caves and old passages until they start to see patches of golden flowers. Alphys takes a few samples of the plants secretly and their group heads deeper until they reach the old barrier chamber. The tourists have been kept out temporarily so the team has about a week to gather data, they need to work quickly and precisely.

 

"As I said before we are looking for a solid structure, something easily overlooked but hard to destroy. All human spells require a physical base, especially something as long lasting as this. Humans had a tendency for circles but rather than a literal circular structure there should be various points that create the circle. Since seven souls were used to create the barrier there should be seven bases spread around the Underground."

 

"There has to be one here, it's close to where the barrier was u-unlocked."

 

Alphys looks around attentively, seeing the structure with new eyes since she began her studies of human magic. The natural flow of magic as well as the cave structure had determined the architecture of the palace, as it probably determined the way the barrier was constructed. Based on the electromagnetic readings she'd gathered she had a vague idea where some of the other bases could be, but was relying on Argyle to guide them.

 

"You said there was a chamber under here, correct?" He asks thoughtfully.

 

"Uh, y-yes there is."

 

Alphys' eyes shift to the stairs and he nods, letting her lead the way. He must have some idea of what used to be down here but doesn't comment on it, even after they walk past the seven dented spaces where the sarcophagi used to rest. He looks around until they find what he is looking for: a large pillar, it's base carved from a distinctly purple stone.

 

"Clever, it looks like a mistake, subtle but it can definitely work as a base. Quite literally. It must reach much farther into the ground, making it so hard to remove the monsters found it easier to just carve it into a column."

 

"The king and Gerson did a lot of the building back then and you're right, they built a lot of things based on the natural shapes; so that means these stones are probably part of buildings now." Alphys says while taking notes.

 

"Then we'll have to make sure we know where to look...this is truly an immense grid the mages created here, very solid." He says, absentmindedly reaching for the stone.

 

"So this is what we're looking for? Do they all have to look the same?" Undyne asks.

 

"They may not all have the same shape but they have to be made of the same material. They also have to be the same distance from one another." he replies.

 

"I'll make my drones go through the seven most magic filled places in the Underground. Hopefully it will narrow it down." Alphys says, busily typing away at her handlink.

 

Undyne half listens whilst keeping a wary eye around them. She never liked this chamber, perhaps because she once was one of the many to add a soul to it. It's not the same to kill during the rush of a battle than to preserve and live alongside the souls of your victims. The walls of this place were heavy with sorrow. Once they're done they move on with just enough time to scout the second magical base, hidden at the bottom of the elevator shaft in the capital; then it's time to go back home.

The guardswoman trudges in front of them, glancing at Alphys every now and then. She can read Alphys easily, her expression makes it clear she is dreading the moment she has to speak to Flowey, and though Undyne may not have forged a friendship with him as easily as the doctor had, she didn't want to see him hurt. Knowing your loved ones are in danger and that you can't be there to support them is the kind of pain she'd never wish on anyone.

 

When they get home that evening Alphys slowly puts all her things away as she prepares to tell Flowey that they're moving Frisk, again. She looks up at the ceiling, even from down here she can hear the noise Flowey and Ika are making in the living room. They are fighting over what they'll watch on TV, having more fun bickering than they probably would actually watching anything. She steps into the room awkwardly and asks him to come with her; they move into her still empty bedroom, even with all the machines humming in the background it feels awfully quiet.

 

"Um, I wanted to talk to you because...s-something's come up."

 

"Is Frisk ok?" He says immediately, it catches her off guard.

 

"I-eh yes, yes they're alright, mostly. It's-it's the host and...Dahlia."

 

She explains what happened with Dahlia first, somehow being easier to talk about an already existing issue.

 

"She won't get through to them that easily... they're going to move Frisk again though, aren't they?" He sighs, his level of acceptance seems off key and it makes her more nervous than if he were throwing a tantrum.

 

"That's true, they're going to take care of them...t-there's something else though..."

 

"Just say it already, I'm not going to leave you if that's what you're worried about. I know I'm more useful here anyway."

 

"The New Orleans host is dead...he-um Frisk...Frisk let him pass the human soul to them and t-the host, he Fell."

 

"So he's dead...that sucks but-wait...what do you mean passed it to them? Did Frisk-? They wouldn't-No way." he cuts off seeing her expression.

 

It makes no sense that Frisk would kill anyone, no matter how strange they'd been acting there's no way they'd hurt anyone unless...

 

"What exactly happened?" Flowey narrows his eyes at her and she bites back the stutters to make sure she relays the facts correctly. Unlike what she expected he doesn't lash out, interrupt or even reply. He listens quietly, with the kind of maturity she'd expect from anyone else his same age. Sometime when she wasn't looking, Flowey had grown.

 

"I'm going to talk to them. They're going to need all the help they can get." He says and turns as if to leave. "Do you have anything else to say?"

 

"N-no that's it for now.. do you want to talk about it?"

 

"Not right now, I want to talk to them first. Thanks, doc." He scuttles over and gives her arm a quick hug then leaves the room as fast as he can. She plops down on her chair with a weary sigh; in so little time things had changed quite a lot, by the time this ordeal was finished Alphys was certain none of them would be the same.

 

Flowey reaches his room, jittery with worried energy, he does the first thing he thinks will help: he calls his therapist. Sylvia has little to say about the issue, at least to him. She thinks they need to do a conference call, all four of them at once, like that's going to be possible with everything that is happening. Flowey agrees to arrange the call but wants to wait a few more days for Frisk to recover and hopefully be somewhere they could actually talk. All Papyrus had told them is that they were going to send them to a place in Sweden, somewhere so obscure Dahlia wouldn't be able to track them. He wouldn't know when would that be, and if what Alphys said was right and Sans was supposed to speak to Frisk about it that just served to make him certain there would be delays.

 

...

 

Sans shuffles into the bedroom, the determination to be there for Frisk outweighing his apprehension. He, better than most, knows well that sometimes for a wound to heal completely you have to go through the pain of pulling out the arrow that inflicted it.

 

"Come in, Sans." Their voice calls from inside after he knocks. It is raspy and grave again, he can guess it'll stay that way for a long time.

 

"Hey kiddo, how ya doing?"

 

They eye him from the bed, laying on their side, not even bothering to hide the fact they've been crying and shrug.

 

"I made ya breakfast, waffles." He says lamely.

 

"I like waffles." They say, staring at the heaping plate.

 

"Yeah, I know."

 

It's painful to see them like this, even more so to add to that pain. They stare at him for a long time and he holds their gaze, letting the guilt he already feels swell and ache on his soul. He hoped that somehow he could hurt as much as they do, if only he could take the pain from them by doing so.

 

"What happened?" They ask, sitting up and eating slowly. When did they get so damn perceptive?

 

"Dahlia, she uh...she attacked a truck full of prisoners an helped 'em escape. She's like a terrorist now except-"

 

"Except people think she's a hero. I know, I saw."

 

"Ya watched the news?" He asks, genuinely surprised.

 

"No, just, I realized I can't see the news from here. I've...I've been outside, I saw the real news on TV and I spoke to people. A lot of them think she's a monster rights protester." They pause eating and look at him evenly. "I...I have something to tell you too."

 

"Yeah...I know."

 

The light in Frisk's eye turns hard like flint, then it's softens. They don't seem to have enough energy to stay mad at him long.

 

"Truth is I haven't been sick I...I'd been spending time with Zunzee, that's his name, the host here. He was trying to... convince me to take the human soul and I was trying to convince him to go with us. But you probably already knew that... Have you been spying on me, Sans?" Their voice is so vulnerable, so broken the guilt chokes him.

 

"I-sorta... I put a tracker on your handlink. I really thought you were sick this whole time...the-Papyrus had someone put a bug in your boots... probably when Mettaton 'repaired' them. They must've-fuck! I'm-I'm sorry, Frisk!"

 

They're crying again, hands coming up to cover their mouth and muffle the sound, he hadn't seen them like this since he first found them on the grave. The food spills on the bed as they curl up on themselves while magic pours from their eyes as tears and light, Sans wishes they had to stop to breathe. After a bit he approaches carefully, in case they want to be alone, but they let him and he wraps his arms around them climbing onto the bed awkwardly.

 

"I'm so tired...just so damn tired.. why do you...?" They mutter, unable to form a sentence, still he feels their anger and betrayal in those few words.

 

"I'm sorry I keep lying. It's because I don't want ya to get hurt, but it's doesn't really do anythin. I know it's not an excuse an I-I didn't..."

 

"I lied too." They say in a small voice turning to look at him. "I lied to you too."

 

Their tear stained face makes his heart break a little and his eyes water in response. Sans grits his fangs, he can't afford to start crying too! He can't be weak when they need him! But they see it, of course they see it and instead their expression softens. Frisk reaches out and their hand cups his cheek, thumb wiping the tears out of the corner of his sockets as their own fall on the bed.

 

"I don't like it...but I know why you did it. I get it..." They pull him in and hold him tight, he hugs them back and lets himself cry over their shoulder where they can't see him.

 

Nonetheless, Frisk can feel his distress in the erratic hum of his bones, the glow of his soul is still warm but aching with sadness. They become aware that there is something in their own chest they hadn't noticed, like a tenderness that's been enhanced. They can almost feel the weight of his guilt as a solid thing and some other indescribable feeling pouring out towards them, something tender and pure.  
Frisk uses the flower in their eye, already burning with light to glance at his soul. It is trembling with feeling, shining a deep red that almost turns blue, radiating a gold light that shines like a dark fire hot enough to melt steel. They can sense just a part of what he's feeling and even just that is quite intense. Knowing that he cares for them so deeply and the fact he is genuinely trying to improve gives them hope and some of the peace they were desperately needing.

 

The following days at the safehouse are spent packing, Frisk is quiet but they're holding up, Sans on his part is still surprised that somehow owning his dishonesty had brought them closer. He doesn't admit it as often as it happens but Sylvia had been right. In the long run honesty did make things better, even if taking that first plunge was excruciating.

 

"I wanted to ask you something." They say, pausing.

 

"Yeah, go ahead."

 

"Did you...does your soul really change...after you've killed someone?"

 

Sans tries not to drop his bag. "What? That's not-where'd ya hear that?"

 

"...I read about it." They say avoiding his eyes.

 

He grumbles some swears, puts his things aside and sits on their bed patting the space beside him. They trudge over meekly and sit, but the glance they give him is fierce, this is really getting to them. Sans sighs and scratches his skull tiredly while he chooses his words.

 

"When someone does something, how do I put this?..uh, ya already know that souls can get scarred. When you do somethin fucked up to somebody else, a part of ya will carry it. Ya can call it Karma or Karmic Retribution if ya wanna get technical; the point is that it's kinda like a wound and if ya don't let it heal, the thing starts to fester."

 

They nod gravely, with a thoughtful expression and he has to give them credit; they had more guts than him if they could hear this for the first time without shuddering.

 

"But I want you to listen to me, an listen good." He reaches for their cheek but veers his hand off to their shoulder instead, he doesn't know if he can do that yet without seeming like a creep. "I know what it's like...to kill someone. Someone who deserves it an... someone who didn't." His eyes glow intensely at that, they wince but don't look away. He lets his hand slide off and reach tentatively for theirs, they grab his claws between their long fingers in response.

 

"The kind of things that stick to yer soul is the kind of shit that shouldn't be forgiven. Letting someone go in peace when that's the only thing anyone could do to help... that's not...yer not a murderer kid. You showed him Mercy. ‘S just this time that meant you had to help him go to sleep."

 

"Thank you." They squeeze his hand before letting go, then start picking up the mess of food. Sans shakes his head and pulls them off the bed by the hand. He extends his free hand at it glowing red; the blankets funnel the food into the trash, then the sheets peel off the bed and turn into a bundle which floats after him.

 

"Imma wash yer stuff. Go take a shower and I'll get ya some more waffles, alright?"

 

"Breakfast in bed and laundry service? Guess you still have some sugar left in you." They joke, almost like they usually do.

 

Sans blushes and scratches his cheek self consciously, almost two weeks after and he still was trying to get that window paint off his face.

 

"Guess, I got a sweet spot for ya kid." He shoots back and smiles, they smile back. They're hurt, but they'd heal just like he had after all those years. He knew that somehow they were going to be fine, both of them.

 

The day wears on and they join the guards in packing the last of their belongings. Frisk pushes a box they’re carrying into the back of the van and shuts the door for him, which is too high for him to reach he notes with a little annoyance.

"Sans, there's something I want to do before we...leave, I guess." They look at him meekly, rolling down their sleeves and starting to head back.

 

"Go ahead."

 

"I want to say goodbye to Laurent, he...I just left after the funeral and he really cared about Zunzee so I don't want to leave without, you know, him knowing I'll finish what he started."

 

"What who started?"

 

"Zunzee...He believed that what they did to the human souls was wrong and that they should be free to go wherever it is the dead go; and I think he was right. I promised him I'd try to do it.”  
They pause, he frowns seriously and nods, they relax visibly before continuing.

“This guy Laurent was his apprentice so I wanted to give him my email… so we could keep in touch." They look away for a moment, Sans puts his hand on their arm and gives them a lazy grin when they look up.

 

"Sure, lemme tell these guys." He nods towards the house where the guards are doing their rounds.

 

"Thanks."

 

Sans shrugs and leads them inside, they tell Ceres where they're going and he decides to come with them; so together with Antoine the four of them head down to the ravine. The town looks so much different to Frisk in the daylight, the humans and monsters crowding and passing by seem strange to them. The hut where Zunzee spent his last years looks the same as it ever did, only now they can hear the loud sounds of hammering and music coming from inside. Frisk exchanges a look with the others before knocking on the door which opens quickly, framing Laurent sweating and shirtless holding some boards.

 

"Where yat, Frisk?" He nods, eyeing Ceres warily.

 

"I'm good, I came to say goodbye Laurent. Oh and this is-"

 

"Sans, yeah? And y'all guards."

 

"Yeah, they're guards."Frisk says stepping in his line of sight, he focuses on them but his posture remains tense. "Dahlia attacked a jail car and freed some monsters. Everyone thought I'd be safer somewhere farther from her so... I'm leaving."

 

"Sound like ya got a lot goin on." He says softening, he signals them to come in, though only Frisk and Sans can fit in the hut.

 

Laurent puts his shirt on and offers them some lemonade, the guards accept politely but keep a safe distance while he and Frisk talk. They talk about the townspeople, the effect of Zunzee's death and what it meant that Laurent was now the town's hougun. He was already busier than before, almost every day someone would come asking for his help, but he was happy to continue his master's legacy. Once they exchange contacts, Laurent gives them a warm parting hug, patting their back heartily.

 

"Keep ya chin up, lil flé. I'm sure da old man is putting a good word for ya over dere. Fore ya leave I got somethin for ya, come 'ere." He waves them closer and rumages through one of the shelves before pulling out what looks like a tiny, leather coin purse. "Take Zunzee's gris gris. It'll keep yer light on for ya, whenevah tings get too dark for ya ta see."

 

He puts the string over their head until the tiny sack hangs low on their neck. They take a good look at it, the scaly leather looks like croc skin sewn tight, it feels as if it has something inside, like beans. On the front it has a tiny tooth like a clasp and some feathers, the string looks hand woven with tiny wooden beads. It's clearly some sort of charm, with actual magic they realize as a bluegreen haze of magic emanates lazily from it, calming but filling them with clarity. It reminds them of Zunzee's soul, like a small part of him had lingered along with his host's magic. The green soul inside them swells in response and when they cry, this time it is with some form of nostalgic joy.

 

...

 

Something in New Orleans had changed Frisk, Alphys realized, it seemed traveling and their circumstances had forced them to grow faster than she thought possible. The doctor’s mind was still reeling from the conversation; they'd asked her help to 'free' the human souls. While she agreed that it was the right thing to do, releasing the souls would solve their current problem whilst creating another. If they released all the human souls that would make Frisk, as the only remaining host, a target for the rest of their lives.

To top it off, at this point they just didn't know enough about their condition to assume Frisk's soul was safe from the peculiarities of being a host. They didn’t know what would happen to them if they freed the souls, would it affect them all? Could they keep frisk safe when she wasn't even sure how long they would last in their current state? A human soul in a monster body was unheard of.  
This was going to be an issue, she needed advice and a good listener, she needed to talk to Argyle later. But first there was a conversation she had pending with Flowey. She found them both in the the living room, Argyle was messing with his notes and talking to Ika. Beside them Flowey sat quietly, either playing or taking notes on his handlink. By luck or some sort of irony they were talking about human magic.

 

"...the almost parasitic nature of it. Even if it were given a body it would not be a complete being."

 

"Ohh, that would be bad! If they were like ghosts and can take empty bodies everything would be fine, just fine. Like repotting a plant, ploop!" Ika nods, Flowey raises a tiny brow at her.

 

"But you know as well as I do that ghosts do have bodies, they're merely not corporeal bodies. A soul with no body, on the other hand is not a complete being: it's feelings without understanding, memories without any real context. For us humans the body is a huge part of our experience of being alive. I think that if a monster soul were strong enough to be transplanted they would retain most of their sense of identity. A human one however...would simply not be able to." The mage shifts through his papers thoughtfully, Flowey puts his handlink down with an exasperated sigh.

 

"Well, what if you put that soul in a brain dead person? Wouldn't the soul just take over that body and walk off?"

 

"You are very morbid, little prince." Ika pats his head and he hisses at her.

 

"No, I don't think so. Not only would that be immoral but that person already has a soul. Putting another in there won't fix their brain damage, the soul would just be stuck in a body that is unable to move. Human bodies are not interchangeable vessels, they're not blank slates because our brains are as much a part of our identity as our souls."

 

"Do you think the souls know that?" The flower looks at him seriously.

 

"I’d say know is not the right word. My theory is that the souls are naturally attracted to hosts of similar frequency, like magnets. The green soul was attracted to a bluegreen soul; the bluegreen here ended with Madam Ika's green soul. Even Dahlia, her soul is naturally orange-red and so far she's gathered the orange and yellow. All hosts have been matched with souls of similar frequencies and I hardly think that's a coincidence. What do you think, doctor?" he asks turning to her.

 

"I-I think that if you're right that might've given us more time to stop her because she's not compatible with the others yet."

 

"Quite, it will give us time to research this properly."

 

"Um, not really. I was talking to Frisk and they want to see if we can 'free' the souls. If instead of catching them we turn them back to normal, l-like how they were before the barrier, maybe they'll just, um, dissipate like regular human souls? But to do that...we need to figure out how the barrier works sooner, a l-lot sooner."

 

"Well then, so much for buying time...Though honestly that does seem like a better long term solution. I've been looking into the formulas that were used to make the other barriers. Mt. Ebbot's seems to be of Celtic origin, so my companions in Ireland are gathering some information for me. We need to have an idea of the formula they used if we are to reverse its effects. Though the seven souls unlocked the barrier its magic is not completely undone, not yet at least."

 

"Well, it's not like it came with instructions." Flowey mutters.

 

"Actually it might've, problem is that the knowledge of the formula used and how to reverse it, was lost in the witch hunts." Argyle explains.

 

"They wasted time fighting everyone. We can't do that too. Not too much time for us." Ika says.

 

"I was telling him that Dahlia probably won't even be able to use all seven, her soul would break. Only a boss monster could handle it." Flowey puts in before Ika can sidetrack the conversation.

 

"T-that's right, a boss monster could absorb all seven souls if they had to, but a normal monster can't handle that much magic. Maybe that was on purpose, boss monsters are the oldest and strongest, t-they were the ones that lived with the humans when the barriers were made. Maybe the humans made it that way on purpose?" Alphys adds, finally sitting down with them.

 

"Perhaps, it could also have been a matter of convenience, boss monsters were rare, even back then. Either way the fact the solution was so readily available to monsters from the start makes it feel as if this was meant to be a failsafe to free them in case..." Argyle's eyes are tired and distant.

 

"In case the mages couldn't do it themselves." Flowey finishes. "They didn't trust each other back then either, guess some things don't really change, huh?" Flowey mutters.

 

"Least they knew what they were doing was wrong. They could've left us there forever and ever." Ika says whilst messing with Argyle's notes.

 

"It makes sense, not all humans were in favor of the barrier...Unfortunately it seems that for both humans and monsters the knowledge on how to undo such magic was lost." Argyle says putting his notes back in a stack.

 

"Dad told me they didn't get to keep anything, they were forced under right after the fight so there was no time. A lost of monsterfolk were killed so whatever history we had before the war is mostly gone." Flowey snarls, there is an awkward silence after. The conversation was going in circles, they didn’t have an answer just yet and they knew it.

 

"Flowey can I...talk to you for a bit?" Alphys asks.

 

"Yeah, sure doc."

 

He follows her out of the room and into her lab, the others stare after them for a moment before resuming the conversation. Alphys knew that very soon they'd figure how the barrier was made, they were so close; but the matter of freeing the souls was a whole other project. At least they’d figured out more or less where the other hosts were and how to block human magic; the safe house could finally live up to it’s name and keep Frisk and the others safe.

 

Two projects down...only ten more to go.

 

"Have you spoken to, em, Frisk?" She starts, he rolls his eyes.

 

"Yeah doc. They're fine. Or as fine as they can be with all the screwed up things that keep happening to them. What do you want to know?"

 

"I wanted to talk to you, about Gaster's journals..."

 

"Go on." He looks at her sharply, his patience was always short.

 

"I-I think I know what he was doing w-with the flowers...it...just look, please." Her hands are shaking as she puts down her handlink, he needs to see this for himself.

 

"What did holey hands do this time?" He growls.

She shakes her head quietly, the light reflecting off her glasses hiding the nervous tears. Without anything else to do, she braces for the intrinsic wretchedness that comes from revealing somebody else's worst secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, back from an unplanned absence. Though I kept writing I stopped posting chapters, lots of stuff going on but also I was worried about getting them just right. They're not going to be perfect and I know there's a lotta stuff to fix on the old chaps too. I'm going to update them as i go along with the corrections, mostly grammar and wording, the story stays the same. Hopefully by the end it will be well made and cohesive and a pleasure to read. Thanks for being patient with me and for reading this far.


	46. Numbed to Strangeness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk, Sans and the guards move again to another place, here's to hoping things won't stay the same...

 

 

"Sweden."    
  


"Sweden." Sans confirms.   
  


"Why Sweden?" Frisk asks tiredly.   
  


"Probably cause no one would think to look there...or cause there's barely any internet."   
  


"What? But what about Flowey? And Laurent and Dan and the others how am I going to call them?" They say, wide awake now.   
  


"Chill, we got a private server for the place. I meant everyone but us. It's in the middle of nowhere." He smiles a little, no internet  and the first thing they think of is not being able to call their friends.   
  


"Wait, there’s no neighbors?"   
  


"Nah, there's people, it's just out of the way. I got some pics if ya wanna see?"    
  


They sit close looking at their future home as they switch from a convoy to an old looking SUV. The inside of the vehicle is decked out with their usual security measures but this time they are traveling small. They are going to be living here for an indefinite amount of time, there is no point in making the residents suspicious by driving in on black SUV's tailgating each other. Luckily an old skeleton monster looked after the property while Papyrus was away, so they went in claiming to be their relatives. It seemed like the nephew or cousin excuse was the extent of Papyrus' cover stories.   
  
  


By now the initial unease is short-lived, moving into a new place loses its charm after the third or fourth time in a row, so they settle quickly. Frisk's room is in the middle of the second floor, a huge screen on the wall set up like a fake window and a sliver of an actual window next to the bed. Sans' room is to their left and the obligatory office and book room to their right. They both have a little privacy upstairs but again, the guards are staying in the house with them, the quick way in which they start their patrol leaves little to the homely illusion the rest of the house seems intent to project.   
  


It's ways off from the center of the town yet not isolated, surrounded loosely by other cottage-like houses; with the woods starting just a few blocks away as an escape route 'in case of attack', Celty had said. The town itself was a small and old fashioned thing, they prided in using traditional methods to prepare their food and other goods, they even had farms. They seemed to focus on supplying the town itself and only a few products were made to export. Not many outsiders came here so the town was unusually quiet, everyone knew most everyone and kept to themselves. Soon they would have to venture out there and mingle, but until then they stayed hunkered down in the overly cozy safehouse.   
  


In just a few days they had everything unpacked, Sans had already made a mess of the kitchen at least once and the office was littered with his handlink repair work. Frisk had filled their own room with posters and started on the new trimester, picking up where they left off with the courses as well as with their classmates. They of course apologized repeatedly for not contacting them sooner.   
  


 

"You have no idea dude! I thought you were kidnapped by a skeleton cult! Or maybe ran off with this dude, shotgun wedding style!" Dan rants.

 

"What the-?" They start.   
  


"Dan, you're being really weird." Ruebee shakes her head.   
  


"No, no wedding, we moved out because of safety reasons."   


  
"Bad neighborhood?" Lisa asks.   
  


"More like bad neighbors...but you get the idea." Frisk finishes.   
  


"Uh, no I don't. What was so bad about the other neighborhood?" Dan asks.   
  


"Dude, just drop it, you're making them uncomfortable. They don't wanna talk about it. You know what we oughta be talking about? Those BlueWolfRaiders that stole our glyph stone while we were in finals!"    
  


Lisa puts in, Frisk gives her a smile which she returns as their handlink conference devolves into angry gamer rants about cheating douchebags that attack someone's base during finals week. Frisk refrains from telling them where they are exactly, Dahlia may not have the technology to track them from this far but they can't risk blurting out any compromising information, specially to the people they care about. That night they play a short campaign well into the night, painfully aware of the four hour difference when their clock hits two am but their friends are still wide awake.   
  


"Sorry guys, I have to call out, I'm starting to derp." Frisk says with an apologetic smile.   
  


"Aw come on, bro, just one more battle! Look I'll even lend you my kick ass mount."   
  


They laugh at that. "Thanks Dan, I'm good, just tired. Hey we still got tomorrow."   
  


"Can't tomorrow, I got a Logic test." Ruebee puts in, releasing the spell she'd been charging for the past few minutes and finishing off the last of their enemies in one fell swoop.   
  


"Yeah, me neither, it's my turn to cook at the dorm." Says Lisa picking up the loot.   
  


"I guess it's just you and me old chap! Two bros against the wilderness of the Farlands!"   
  


"Yeah, guess it is, see ya tomorrow then. Good night!" Frisk waves at the camera one last time and logs off.    
  
  


 

They spend a few minutes updating their journal that had been a bit forgotten as of late. Though new things kept happening their old dreams had started to fade, only now the thought of not ever remembering everything was not nearly as terrifying. They were resigned, but more than that they were aware of the fact they now had plenty of new memories to fill the blanks. Memories of friends, of new places, of living their life doing something other than running for it constantly. Though admittedly they were still running, those moments in between the fights made all the difference. They'd had time to make friends, to learn and to grow. They wanted more of that and slowly their resolve solidified, they would find a way to stop Dahlia. 

 

They would free the souls and get their life back.

 

Their eye kept closing, blurring the words and not even their resolve could keep it open, so finally they give in and lay down. That night the blackness welcomes them quickly, they recognize the sensation immediately and turn just in time to see Chara emerge from the yawning dark as they always do, lit from within like an angelic apparition.    
  


But they aren't alone this time.   
  


"So, you've decided to fight." They say, sweet voice echoing into the nothing.   
  


Frisk nods and Chara smiles, almost wistfully, their eyes oddly fierce. They have no time to read that expression as two shapes stir beside Chara, just off the shadows of their cloak. When one of them speaks, their shape comes into focus with a yellow spark, making Frisk choke on their response.    
  


"I'm glad you're fighting for what you want...but staying with your loved ones...somehow it seems like it's more important, you know?"   
  


They reach out but somehow can't step closer, even though he's just two steps away. Then the other shape speaks up, this one taller and it's voice gruffer, he glows a soothing green.   
  


"You'll do da right ting. Ya got this, flé. But don't forget...to keep dis safe while ya at it, kay?" Long black fingers tap their chest.   
  


Frisk looks down to see bare ribs, inside them a soul as gold as the blooms around them, gold like the crown on Chara's head, gold like the petals on their grave. They reach out but feel a tug, someone is holding their hand. They turn, looking at the hand on theirs, a tan skinned human hand that looks thick by comparison, holding their white fingers tight.   
  


"Don't do something you'll regret."    
  


They look up but they can't see their face, the black is everywhere yet somehow they can still feel them here, four distinct feelings, four different beings and they're in the middle lost and unsure. They wake up slowly, holding onto the image so that once they get up they can pour it all on the page, hands shaking all the while. They don't really know what it means but maybe, just like before, time will make the answers clear.   


  
  
The next morning Frisk heads downstairs drowsily, though last night they'd tried to go back into the dream it seemed like the images came and went as they pleased. Instead they fell back asleep and  dreamed the Farlands were real and ran through the Feralwoods with Dan and Lisa hunting for the mythical sharkle. It was embarrassingly nerdy that they’d enjoyed it so much.They shake their head and stretch, cracking their spine with a satisfying set of pops.    
  


"Doesn't that hurt?" Antoine asks politely from the kitchen counter. He'd been back to his overly polite tone since they left New Orleans, probably thinking Frisk was mad at them.    
  


"Not really, morning." They replied just as politely, okay maybe they were a little mad.    
  


The skeleton mulls about the kitchen making a big batch of scrambled eggs, if Sans wasn't up yet it meant he hadn't slept well last night and he'd be hungry when he woke up. They left the other plate ready to reheat then sat on the stool across Antoine. The guard fidgets with their bowl of porridge and though their bigger eyes stay on the plate, the smaller sets of eyes keep flicking back to Frisk's face. The pair eat in awkward silence for a while.   
  


"I wanted-"   
  


"I was gonna-"   
  


 

They each pause expectantly and Frisk exhales a small laugh, the both of them were being a little ridiculous.   


  
"Go ahead." Frisk says and digs in again.   


  
"I...wanted to apologize properly. It is our job to protect you, first and foremost; but I'd like to think that more than that we're mates. Maybe not best mates but at least...good friends. Lying to you was uncalled for, even if everything that was happening made it seem like I needed to."   


 

  
"I get it, but why did you think I wanted to-? I mean, if I'd known you would go with me I wouldn't have lied about it." They say with a little smile, breaking the guard's serious expression.   


  
"Well it wasn't just you and the host we were concerned about." Antoine rolls his eyes and so does Frisk. Sans would not have been a happy camper either way. "More than that it bothered me to be honest. At some point doing this is the same as saying this host thing is more important than any one of us. In a way it is but I can't exactly pretend I care more for what happens to some strangers rather than what happens to my fellow guards...and my friends." Antoine says, eyes intensely focused on their own.   


  
"But it is more important, even if it doesn't feel that way sometimes. I'm not mad at you, you know." Frisk plays with their scrambled eggs a bit before finishing them off.    


  
"Thank you, I'm glad." Antoine says finishing off their own breakfast.   


  
"Wanna go train? I was hoping, I dunno, to learn some new stuff." They shrug getting up to do the dishes.    


  
"I-yes! Yes we can go in just a bit. Wait, what for?" Antoine pauses, their own dishes in hand.   


  
"What do you mean what for? I thought you guys were listening to everything I was doing?"   


 

  
"We were, but after what happened in New Orleans Sans made some suggestions. The microphone thing was a bit too much."   


  
"You think?" They raise a brow bone and the insectoid looks down, appropriately abashed. "I meant that I want to free the souls, it's the right thing to do. I want to train to be ready...to fight."   


  
"I understand that is why we've been training this entire time." the guard replies, still lost.   


  
"Yeah, 'just in case'. I don't mean just in case now. I want us to get those souls back from her, I want to know my friends didn't die for nothing. I'm not going to let her or anyone else take them." The proverbial fire in Frisk's eye is anything but playful and Antoine let's out a nervous laugh.   


  
"I thought that soul you were given was supposed to be made out of kindness. Where is all this fight coming from."   


  
"From me." They replied honestly. "I'm tired of running and no, this soul he gave me it's not all made of kindness...I don't think anyone is made of one thing and it's not like it's- it's not going to change me. I'm changing because I want to."   


  
"I know that. Sorry for implying-" Frisk nudged them, they stared, all six eyes wide and blinking.   


  
"Stop apologizing for everything, you're making it more awkward than it has to be. You're not the first one of my friends to lie to 'protect' me. Through I'm gonna tell you it is getting old." They teased.   


 

  
With just a few well placed verbal jabs and more than a few literal ones their friendship is back on track. They offer the guard a skeletal pinky and ask for a promise of honesty, all of Antoine's eyes are focused on them as they twine their long and shiny pinky with theirs. Frisk realized forgiveness came easily when you understood why it is people lie, how it is they can care so much yet do things that hurt you. Maybe that's what being close to people was about, not about never hurting them, not about giving them only your best, but about sharing with them your all of honesty.   
  
  


...

  
  
  
Back in Iowa, eyes wandering over her garden, Toriel sighs deeply, despite the years that had passed a good part of her child had stayed the same. With those years she'd slowly come to terms with the fact she would never see the boss monster Asriel could have become in Flowey. Though he was capable of learning, it was unlikely he would age normally, as evidenced by his persistent impatience.    


  
"...there has to be something else we can do, treating her like a murderer is obviously not doing anything! She'll find them eventually and if Sans couldn't hold her off completely what makes you think the guards will? She's not alone anymore!" He all but shouts, leaves gesturing angrily.    


  
  
"I understand you are upset my child but now is not the time to-"   


  
"Then when is it the time to?! When is it time for me to actually do something? Am I supposed to just let Frisk deal with everything by themselves? I don't know if you noticed, mom, but the world seems really intent on shitting on their head all the time!" Flowey bares his teeth nastily.   


  
"Asriel, that's hardly appropriate! Don't talk to me like that young man, what has gotten into you?" she says turning to him, appalled.   


  
"I'm sorry... I just don't think putting everything on these guys is fair. I know they almost have it, Alphys' and the others can figure out how to free the souls. They don't need me anymore...and I know Frisk is going to need me soon."   


  
"I understand you're worried for your friend but the time for us to directly intervene is gone. Things are not as they were in the old Underground. We cannot simply fight our problems away, regardless of the consequences."   


  
"I'm not going so I can help them fight! They can fight just fine themselves! Don't you get it? I want to be there for them!" His body ripples angrily until he's standing there in front of the handlink, a small monster boy with big red eyes looking at the equally red eyes of the one that could've been his mother.   


  
"What happened, child? What else is troubling you?" She asks gently.   


  
He recedes into his usual form, slithering into his pot. He looks up at her eyes, so much like his own even in this form and can't tell her. Somehow he thinks she must already know.   


  
"It's nothing...mom." he said almost petulantly.   


  
They leave it at that, both talking circles around the elephant in the room until she stops, the silence stretches but she is not waiting for a confession of some kind. What troubles him has been an implicit fact she has accepted just as implicitly with her actions.   


  
"Whatever you choose to do, it won't change the fact that I love you, Flowey. Just... be careful and tell me these things."   


  
It could've sounded like a request, but the fierceness in her voice made it sound like a challenge. His expression softened, he thought she would leave it be, pretend it was all as it ever was. But of course she wouldn't, instead she left the door open for him to take that last step. If that readiness to face him as he was could not be called love, then he didn't know what could.   


 

"Thanks, mom." He said, this time with feeling.   
  
  
  


...

 

  
  
It was almost two weeks after the skeletons had left New Orleans when the call happened, any other time Sylvia would've waited longer but with how quickly things could change, she thought that none of them could afford it.

  
  
She was probably right.   


  
"So, it's been a while...I believe we have some catching up to do." Sylvia smiles, the handlink projects her image onto the recliner as if she were sitting right there with them. Frisk and Sans sit slightly to her right on the long couch and Flowey is projected onto the coffee table to the left, the four of them forming a loose circle.   


  
"Yup, pretty much. So who wants to bite it?" Flowey said playfully sarcastic.   


  
"I don't want to bite anything but I can start, if that's okay." Frisk's eye danced with amusement at Flowey, it had been a while since they'd video called him in full like this.    


  
"Go ahead, kid." Sans grumbled softly.    


  
"Will do, spooky scary." They shoot b ack with a little grin that falls when they take a fake breath and start to talk.   


 

  
Sylvia had gotten the gist of what had happened beforehand but hearing it from Frisk themselves carries an entirely different weight. The changes that had slowly begun months ago were suddenly in the forefront of their life and becoming a permanent part of their persona. They were much more assertive, much more confident and bearing a strong sense of clarity of purpose that they'd lacked before. Luckily both Sans and Flowey were not too far behind.   


 

  
"We had a talk bout it, I know I screwed it up. It's...lazy to just lie 'cause it's easier an it sucks when ya find out." Sans growled finishing his own spiel.   


  
"Gee I wonder who told you that would happen?" Flowey rolled his eyes.   


  
"Can it, weed."   


  
"Leave it, both of you. You can play-fight later. Yes Frisk?" She turned to them and the other two followed her eyes.   


  
"I was thinking for a while about what I'm going to do about the whole Dahlia and the hosts thing...I already decided I'm going to take the human souls back from her. Alphys and the others are trying to find a way to set them free and I-I think Zunzee was right. They deserve to be free...and so do I. I don't want to live the rest of my life running away." They admit, eye bright and motes starting to gather around it.    
  


  
"And you shouldn't have to, I agree. But your safety is also important, you need to consider that too." Sylvia says into the tense silence.   


  
"I'm not safe either way. If it's not her eventually someone else might come along. If we don't free these souls they could get passed on to someone else and the whole thing will start all over again." They continue.   


  
"No, yer safe, were safe here. They'll capture those things and put them away. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt ya." Sans says stiffly.   


 

  
"Oh boy here we go again."    


  
"Flowey, please."   


  
"Well, I'm with Frisk. Those souls need to be put out of the picture for them to be safe and I'm all for kicking some crazy ass." Flowey says cheerfully.   


  
"Yeah, an ya know all 'bout crazy." Sans grumbles.    


  
Before anyone can interrupt the flower continues. "And that's why I'm going with cha!"   


  
"What!?"    


  
"The hell?"   


  
"Oh, great." Sylvia mutters.   


  
"Really?!" Frisk gets up as if to reach for him, kneeling close in front of the coffee table so they're eye level with him.   


  
"Yup!" Flowey says smiling wide. "I'm actually on the plane already, should be there by tomorrow. Surprise!" He says making jazz hands with his leaves.   


  
Frisk exhales a harsh laugh and grins wide at him, they didn't realize how much it meant have him on their side until now. They don't know what to say so they just smile at him and he smiles back.   


  
"Would it kill ya guys to cut me some slack? Sheesh." Sans says while he rubs the dents under his eyes. Frisk turns to him questioningly but he waves them off. "Look, I'm gonna support ya no matter what. I'd rather ya stay here but if ya wanna fight-can't believe I'm saying this-I'm not gonna stop ya. Yer right, if it's not her someone else will come along so...let's fix this shit." His mouth curls in a nasty snarl, features set and stubborn.   


  
"Holy crud he said it! I can't believe it! Tell me you're recording this!" Flowey's head flicks between Frisk and Sylvia animatedly.   


 

  
Sylvia gets them back on track after that and they each get some new exercises to work on. All the while Frisk sits there close to the image of Flowey, pleasantly shocked and staring after Sans while he refuses to look at them in his embarrassment. Their soul feels ready to burst from their ribcage with joy. He supports them! He's finally here with them and maybe part of the reason he looks away is just to avoid the bright gold light that's coming from their chest just at that thought.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far, we are officially in the final story arc, no more round the world in eighty days I'm afraid. The remainder of the story will kick off here in Sweden. I hope you've enjoyed this so far and will stay till the end that is soon approaching. Until the next one!


	47. Slow Spinning redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The skeletons get settled in their new home and in their new dynamics. Sans does his best to make good on the promise of trusting Frisk, not just to be independent but to be someone who can support him as well.

The next morning Frisk gets up early, making sure to wake Sans and let him know they are going to the supermarket. They’ve been standing here for at least ten minutes and they are losing patience, they cross their arms and jut their chin out a little as he opens his mouth to argue back again. They don’t want this to continue being an issue, not after all that’s happened.

 

"I don't see why we gotta go out, though. We could just buy all that stuff online." Sans grumbles obstinately.

 

"And live like shut-ins you mean. We have to leave the house sometime. Besides we're safe here, right?" Frisk elbowed him pointedly, they and Flowey had been teasing him with this since last night.

 

"Don't rub it in. Hanging out with the creeper’s turning ya into a bully." He says pointing a claw at them. 

 

"I'm not a bully, you're just fun to mess with...it's just to get groceries and come back." They swat his hand playfully but their face is worried. 

Sans makes a sound like a groan and a sigh then pulls his hand away and quite literally disappears into his room. In less than a five minutes he is dressed and ready, he could certainly get things done quickly when he wanted to.

 

"He doesn't even eat anything, why does he need groceries, frigging little creep." He mumbles putting the key card and his handlink in his hoodie pocket. 

 

"I know he doesn't eat a lot but it's the gesture that counts!" 

 

Celty is waiting by the door before they even reach it, she gives them a curt nod and follows them out, flying off as soon as they’re outside and keeping her distance. She’d turned quieter since the move and was making an effort to give them space. Celty had also apologized for lying to them though not as profusely as Antoine. It seemed she was more focused on protecting them than in keeping with good manners.

 

Frisk walks a little ahead of Sans, checking their handlink for directions. Humans and a few monsters pass them, glancing curiously at the newcomers but not crossing their path, people here didn't usually engage in conversation with strangers. After fifteen minutes of walking, mostly because they were idling, they make it to the supermarket and start gathering supplies into their tiny cart. Though the house is very well stocked with a surplus of MTT products, due to Papyrus' concern for health there isn't a lot of ingredients for sugary desserts.

 

They take a different route on the way back, winding down a few new streets, Celty hovers closer here. Sans wants badly to make amends, he really wants to make Frisk feel welcome and trusted; anything but like they were a prisoner. So he lets them wander a bit, keeping his eyes open for anything off just the same. They've stopped suddenly at the corner of the street and he leans closer to see what they're looking at. The first thing he notices is the colors, a bright splash of reds, yellows and blues on the front of the shop. The second thing he notices is Frisk's face; they have an odd expression, like they’re looking at someone they know but are not sure they wanted to see.

 

"Wanna go in?" He asks casually.

 

"I'm ok...can we get closer though?" They look back at him and he nods without thinking, Celty flutters closer silently. 

It was odd, Frisk thought, now that Sans had eased up, everyone else seemed more paranoid by comparison. They walk up to the store, a flower shop, its front lined with brightly colored blooms in water. Frisk leans down and runs their pale finger over the tulips, they look a little sad for some reason and for once Sans doesn't try to crack a joke, instead he follows quietly.

 

"Välkommen till...oh!" A short portly woman stops in front of them, an apron dotted in dirt over her skirt. She greets them cheerfully but freezes when she sees Frisk's eye.

 

"Hej." Sans growls, putting one of his arms over their shoulder and stepping between them.

 

"Ja, god morgon.Förlåt, du skrämde mig. Kan jag hjälpa dig?" She says turning to Sans.

 

"Sorry?" Frisk responds.

 

"Oh, pratar du svenska?" She looks between them confused.

 

"Jag pratar lite svenska. Pratar du engelska?" Sans says back, Frisk stares at him open-mouthed.

 

"Oh, I speak a little English too, sorry. Can I help you?" She says with a little smile.

 

"We're just looking, thank you...are these-? Can you buy these in a pot?" Frisk asks pointing at a bundle of small blue flowers. 

 

"Yes, yes, potted plants are inside. Come in please." 

 

Frisk turns to Sans questioningly, he nods and they get up and follow the florist. She smiles wide, still staring at their eye. "Beautiful buttercups." She says as they pass her by on the door, pointing at her own eye.

 

"Thank you." Frisk replies.

 

Sans stares after them as they follow the lady through the rows of plants with a confused frown on his face. Lately he finds they are so much harder to read. Are they bothered? Should he step in?

 

"Sans, come look at this!" 

 

The way they smile at him then makes him think he imagined it. He kneels down next to them, sets of small pots are in rows in front of them, they are holding a pot with the same blue flowers in their thin hands. 

 

"Nice; kinda look like weeds though." He says. 

 

"Dude, don't say that! They remind me of you, when you're blue. It’s almost the same color...they’re not as bright as you though." They say fondly.

 

Sans sputters when he looks at the flowers, their color matches the blue he had all those years ago, his blue, the color of his soul. Frisk doesn't know enough about monsters to know that what they are saying is too personal to discuss here, so he turns away to keep his intense blushing to himself.

 

"They are called Germander Speedwell." Says the lady from behind them.

 

"Sounds like a guy's name. How much are these?" Frisk asks with interest.

 

The lady smiles and takes them to the register talking of the care needed for these plants. She seems charmed by the flowers growing on their body and even more so by their manners. The two of them chat for a bit before Frisk pays for the plants and heads out, the lady walks with them to the door.

 

"Please come back soon Smörblomma, anytime you like."

 

"Thanks, I'll try." They wave at her and head back.

 

"I think ya got a fan over there." Sans grumbles as they make it out, taking the plant from their hands and carrying it for them. 

 

"Yeah, it's the flowers, right?" 

 

"Yeah, or how nice ya are."

 

"I'm pretty sure it's the flowers. She's a flower lady after all." 

 

"Can't argue with that logic." He shrugs, smiling lazily.

 

As they walk home, Frisk's eyes keep following the flower pot in his claws admiringly and his face heats up in response. He shifts them to his other hand to keep them from view. He feels oddly vulnerable about it, even more so when they put the flowers by their bed. They fuss over the plant for a bit then start working on dinner, halfway through cutting the sweet potato fries they get a call from Toriel. They give Sans a questioning look before they allow the video call to start.

 

"Hello, Frisk. I'm sorry I called out of the blue like this but I wanted to speak with you. Oh, hello Sans." She smiles softly, her baleful eyes curving prettily.

 

"Hey Tori. Ya want me to, uh, goat outta here?" He says earning him a look from Frisk.

 

"Only if you don't mind being all a-bone for a moment." She responds, he laughs earnestly at that and she covers her mouth to stifle her giggles.

 

"Oh god why." Frisk mutters. "It's ok, Sans. I'll just go to my room." 

 

He nods at them and gets back to chopping the sweet potatoes with his magic. They head upstairs making small talk with Toriel until they reach the room and close the door. 

 

"So...is something wrong?" They start.

 

"Oh my, it does seem like I always call with bad news. Not this time, child. I merely wanted to talk to you about my son."

 

"What's going on with Flowey?" 

 

“Well, you see, I'm not sure what is causing it but he seems very troubled as of late. I feel he is... conflicted about our relationship. But that is beside the point. I’m calling because I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Okay, um, go ahead.” 

“It’s simply to keep an eye on him for me, and in turn let him know of anything that troubles you. He is very worried for you, we all are.”

“I can definitely do that, Ms. Toriel.” they say, feeling admonished despite her soft tone. They hadn’t exactly been an example of good behavior lately. 

“You know just Toriel is fine.” she quirks a brow at them before her face becomes soft and open again. She looks at them straight in the eye and again they are startled by how intense her eyes can get.

“Most importantly, speak to me; whenever you need something, whenever there is a problem or a doubt, I want you to know that I am here for you both, child. I know we have not spoken much but I want you to feel free to speak to me as Flowey does, you are never alone in this. You have your friends there with you and at any given time, I am here.” 

“Thank you.” luckily their voice could not crack from emotion as easily, but they felt their eye prickle with tears. They’d not realized that they’d been missing something like this until she’d spoken. Everyone was always worried for them, gave advice and affection; but none of them were quite so...parental about it. That odd combination between a command and a worry, nurture and guidance... 

 

They’d missed it. 

 

“Wait before you go, we bought some stuff to make Flowey a pie. I know you make his favorite and I was thinking maybe, I don’t know, you could send us a copy of a recipe?” they ask.

“Oh my goodness, of course! I can do more than that! Take the phone downstairs and I’ll give you a step-by-step! I know neither you or Sans has fire magic but I’m sure the oven will be fine if you just…”

 

Frisk walks downstairs, nodding numbly at her sudden change in attitude, they’d never seen her this excited about anything. They leave the handlink on the counter and she gives them the instructions; in almost no time they have everything set and ready to bake; the only downside being the barrage of horrible cooking puns they had to put up with to do so. Despite all the shenanigans, by the time Flowey was arriving the food was ready and the pie was cooling. Frisk thanks Toriel and had barely taken off the apron when the doorbell rings with a rusty yet cheerful sound.

 

They open the door and there he is, his stem stretched so that he is almost face level to them. His pot is inside a small drone with six legs they notice, just before he leaps out into their arms in the form of a small monster boy wearing a striped shirt. They open their arms and plant their feet, but despite their best effort Frisk tips back until their tailbone hits the floor and he lands on their ribs.

 

“Frisk! Gosh I missed you!” he gushes and they nod laughing for lack of anything to say.

“Heya creeper.”

“Howdy, bone-head.”

“Furball.” Sans grins picking him up like a misbehaving child and setting him back on the floor.

“Spineless.” he growls back, but his voice sounds too childish in this body to sound very threatening, Frisk snorts and pinches his cheek. His face ripples like leaves in annoyance before he shifts back to his usual form and slithers back into his pot. Sans floats Flowey’s belongings upstairs and lets them settle at the table and they wait for him to come back before digging in. Despite the fact he can’t eat much, Flowey tries a little bit of everything they’d made.

Except for the pie of which he eats a single, huge slice by himself.

“I can’t believe you...made me pie!” the flower thrills, his thorns slicing a bite-sized piece off before he unceremoniously shoves it into his mouth. 

“Yeah, your mom helped.”

“More like gave us a Tu-Toriel.” Sans interjects, Frisk groans.

“...You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, trash bag.” Flowey says evenly.

 

After they finish up and leave some food out for the guards they get ready for bed. Frisk takes Flowey up to their room and the two friends talk through the night until their voice fades into the soft sighs of sleep. Flowey walks slowly off the side of their bed, puts the drone to charge and steps out of the pot. He carries it in his small white hands to the window at the other end of the room. His reflection stares at him from the glass, lit silver by moonlight. His long ears are like hers, his round forehead is like his.

 

He tries to smile but the gesture doesn’t look anything like in her pictures. There is an edge to his features and a sharpness to his eyes. He is not that child, he is different now and so are they. He puts the pot on the windowsill and stares at Frisk, their breathing is soft and gentle, their soul glows peacefully alongside the green soul they are keeping. Whatever happens from now on, this feeling is something he could hold onto, something he could fight for. He cares for them, as simple as that. It is something he didn’t need to think about to know and that somehow makes it all the more true. 

 

The next morning Frisk gets up early to train and catches Flowey dozing. He is exhausted, still jet lagged and getting used to the time difference, Frisk lets him go back to sleep but he gets on his drone a few minutes after and follows them downstairs anyway.

 

“So you’re still doing that?” he asks over the breakfast they'd served him.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Huh. That’s good actually, it's a good idea I’ll come watch ya when I finish.” he winks and they smile easily.

 

“Okay, see ya in a bit then.” they wave and head out, the insectoid guard is waiting for them by the back door. He's just about done with his food and water when a woosh from his left startles him. 

 

"Mornin." Sans appears in the chair and reaches out for the toast casually.

 

"I hate it when you do that!...Good morning."

Flowey eyes the skeleton shrewdly noticing that his bones look smoother, his eye sockets not as sunken. Even the three thin lines across his forearm and the crack along his lip seem shallower. 

 

"You're looking awfully...plump since the last time I saw you. Are ya feeling better?"

 

Sans' mouth curls, in a snarling smile. " I'm doing fine, just plumpin." Flower makes a derisive noise and he chuckles. "I did what Sylvia told me, stopped bullshitting them...it's been working out for me."

 

"About time! But I'm glad, even with all that's going on you two seem...a little happier."

 

Sans' gives him a softer, lazy smile and shoves the last of the toast in his mouth before heading out back too.

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"Training."

 

"You're working out? I can't believe it..."

 

"Shaddup."

 

He turns to leave but Flowey whines and argues until Sans ends up letting him out with him. They walk out to the ample backyard, lined with shrubbery and some trees that tastefully mask the fence from view. Frisk sees them but does not acknowledge them, too busy circling Antoine and dodging his attacks. They move fast and gracefully, dodging and trying to close in to catch the insectoid off guard. 

 

Antoine circles them too, never giving their back and their stinger poised to attack, neither of them gets close enough for hand to hand but use the momentum of their bodies to fire attacks. Frisk shoots swarms of light motes, forcing Antoine to move by tossing the occasional bone attack; while Antoine fires his curving slice attacks and uses the blades on their arms to keep Frisk from getting too close. Watching them like this Flowey is awestruck by how well Frisk is fighting, when they'd been human they had been too weakened by the flowers to do much more than run. Even so, they had come a long way from the nervous and frail creature Sans had brought home, this monster was capable and strong. 

Strong enough to look after themselves.

His surprise must've shown on his face because he heard Sans chuckle with amusement. "They're not gonna need us to look after them if they keep this up huh?"

"Yeah, I know." But unlike Sans his tone wasn't wistful. "They're amazing like that." Flowey sounded proud instead. 

Sans stared at him worriedly before Frisk's voice turned his attention back to the fight. 

 

"Can I try it now?" They sounded a little winded but excited for some reason.

 

"Go ahead. Oh and next time? Don't tell your enemy you're about to try a different attack." Antoine flashes their pincers in a grin.

 

"Got it!" 

Frisk extends a hand, motes flaring from their eye and gathering on their temples as a yellow glow, like a broken halo. Antoine keeps attacking them still, albeit more lazily whilst they focus. Then all at once the glow in their head coalesces into tiny yellow flowers and a similar glow starts on various points of Antoine's body. 

The guard looks like their body is covered with christmas lights for a moment, before those lights too blossom into flowers. Sans' stares in mild horror as the yellow plants spread over the guard's body, extending their tendrils and branching like sped up footage of roots growing. Flowey makes a surprised sound but his eyes are lit with fascination as the vines spread. Sans feels a little sick. 

 

The guard stops attacking as Frisk is so focused on what they are doing that they'd stopped dodging altogether, instead Antoine stands there facing the skeleton as they pour more and more magic into the plants.

 

"Did I...get it?" Frisk asks, breathless with the effort.

 

Antoine takes a few steps in their direction, stretching their arms out tentatively. 

 

"It needs more focus. Instead of covering everything, try to just tie my wrists together." They suggest calmly.

 

"What're ya doing?" Sans growled.

 

"No! Tie their feet to the floor first Frisk! Use the dirt!" Flowey shouts, as if cheering.

 

Frisk is frowning and sweating with concentration, but they nod and gesture down with their hand, the image is too familiar to Sans and he shudders as the unpleasant memories resurface. The plants glow in response and their vines drop, reaching for the floor and though Antoine does keep moving forward this time they have more difficulty.

 

"Great job, Frisk. That's enough for now, let's take five!" 

 

Frisk lets their magic go and stumble to their knees, they sit there heaving hard to get their magic under control.

 

"Frisk!" Sans' appears at their side in an instant. They look up at him and smile with embarrassment, their eye is still spewing magic, but the half crown of flowers that had been spreading around their skull had stilled.

 

"Hey Sans...did you see my secret attack?" They ask, still panting.

 

"What were ya-?"

 

"That was awesome!" Flowey shouts, right next to his skull. He had scurried to their side and shoved Sans aside to be in front of them. "Did you just control the flowers!? Oh gosh, we can be flower buddies!" He rambles, bobbing up and down in his pot while Frisk smiles at him, soaking in the compliment.

 

"Now, now. They need some practice but I'll admit, if you ever want to be a guard, I'd be more than happy to help with your application." Antoine grins, reaching down to help them up. They hand Frisk a granola bar that glows slightly green with magic, ignoring the way Sans was frowning at them. 

 

"They're still on you? The flowers?" Asks Flowey suddenly.

 

"Ah, yes, they tend to do that. I'm not sure what magic they're made of but they're almost like real flowers, see?" Antoine pulled the vines off and showed him a handful of the plants. They were small and bright yellow, like any regular buttercup if it were not for the fact that they'd been made out of magic. 

 

Sans exchanged a look with Flowey but said nothing else, he took a few of the flowers in his claws and crushed them between his bones. The flowers smudged yellow on his finger but did not disappear, were these actually...?

 

"Frisk?" 

 

"Yeah?"

 

"How'd ya make these?" He asks holding the door as they walk back into the house, still chewing on the granola bar noisily.

 

"Those come out of the pellets? You know the little white pellets that don't really do any damage? Antoine and I figured it out, they're like seeds, see?" They opened their hand and a few motes started floating above it, they let the tiny balls of white magic drop into their palm and moved them around thoughtfully. "They don't do a lot of damage, but if they hit you they get stuck on you and after a while I can make them bloom. He says that makes me a 'stamina fighter'." They shake their head and cast the magic into the table with a flick of their hand; then they turn and crack their back with an audible set of pops while they wait.

 

"Since when did ya figure that out?" He asks numbly, poking a pellet with his claw. It sticks to him with a bit of a sting, the magic damage it gives is so minimal it barely registers.

 

"That I could do that? I dunno, I found out when we were in New Orleans but I didn't get a chance to use them because I um, stopped training for a while." The excitement in their voice dwindles.

 

"Oh..." He says nothing else and waits, face unreadable.

 

After a minute or so, they wave their hand in the general direction of the pellets and they light up briefly before each of them blossoms into a small flower, the flower on his hand is attached with a few roots to his finger. He stares at it and plucks it out suddenly, turning to leave.

 

"What's wrong? What is it?"

 

They take hold his forearm, fingers curled over the scar there. Sans remembers how they healed his arm, flowers grew on it that time too. His thoughts flutter fast and aimless against the inside of his skull, like moths around a light, hitting the glass repeatedly. Was this part of the host thing? Was this human magic? No, humans couldn't create things out of magic, that was a thing monsters did. But monsters couldn't create things like this either, alive things. Even white magic that feels solid disappears when you break it, he ran his thumb and forefinger together feeling the crushed flower from before smooth against his phalanges. 

Real plants moving with magic...he sticks the last flower in his pocket and turns to them. 

 

"Lift yer shirt."

 

"What?" They stare at him baffled and he stutters to a halt realizing how weird that sounded.

 

"I-I mean t-to check the flowers. I don’t- Just look d-down there an tell me if they look the same, okay?" Sans' feels his face redden but by then curiosity had replaced confusion on their face. Frisk peers down the neck of their shirt and gives a surprised little sound. 

 

"Oh my god, there's-! There's less in there! That's so weird! Oh my god it's like an MP bar!"

 

They lift their shirt suddenly and he makes a strangled sound, staring all the same. Their ribs are still tangled in flowers but there are less of them, spread thinner. He could see through their ribcage in some parts... 

 

Frisk starts poking about in their ribcage rambling excitedly, this just kept getting more and more awkward. Sans coughs and looks away fast only to meet Flowey's stunned face. The flower drops a small bowl of popcorn he was holding, it lands loudly and spins on its side while the flower stands there, frozen on his drone.

 

"What. The. Hell. Do you think you're doing to my best friend?!" He snarls, face turning twisted, his vines engorging into thick ropes covered in thorns that snap like whips between the two skeletons. 

 

Frisk steps back and out of the way, dropping their shirt back over their chest but Sans just stands there, empty eye sockets and face glowing a bruised red. 

 

"I was just showing him-" Frisk started.

 

"You perv, I knew it! Platonic my thorny green ass! Get your nasty mustard covered paws off of them!" Flowey punctuated each sentence with a bullet or a whip of his vines. The thorns passed barely an inch from Sans' face before he actually moved back. 

 

"Flowey stop it, he didn't do anything." Frisk of all things, was now laughing. 

 

That seemed to snap him out of it, though his vines remained extended and very much thorny. 

 

"Look, check this out." They lift their shirt again and this time Sans' turns away before it even goes past their waist. Flowey scowls at him then turns to Frisk, surrounding them loosely in his vines as if to shield them from view.

 

"You see the flowers? There's less of them right?"

 

"Right."

 

"It's like all the flowers I used on Antoine are gone. Like all the magic I used is gone and all that's left is what I can use...and that meeeaans?" They grin playfully at him, watching the change in his expressions. 

 

"You got an MP bar? You got and MP bar!" Flowey exclaims sharing in their childish excitement, the argument seemingly forgotten as they move to the couch to chatter. Sans follows them but doesn't sit, still embarrassed. 

 

"But it's not-you're not going to fight shirtless aren't cha?" He asks, they laugh loudly then put a hand on their mouth to smother the sound long enough to reply.

 

"No, that would be too weird. Maybe I could do that to spar, to make sure I don't use too much magic, but I'm not going out there shirtless! What's the point of showing everyone your MP bar?" 

 

"True, true." Flowy stroked his non-existent chin with a leaf. "You might not want to take it off here either, you never know who might be perving on you." He said, raising his volume at the end.

 

"Nah, there's nothing to see there. Besides, Sans does it, why is it weird if I take my shirt off?"

 

"And why exactly is he taking his shirt off in front of you?" Flowey ground out, mouth full of fangs.

 

"I-that's not..." Sans sighed, dragging a hand down his red face.

 

"It's not a big deal, he doesn't do anything weird, it's like when he’s changing or something. You overreacted mister." They say bopping the spot on his flat face where his nose would've been.

 

"Yeah yeah. Anyway, you need any help with the training? I could show you a few tricks, now that we're flower buddies." He nudges them playfully and they return the gesture.

 

"Yeah, that sounds fun. I could have three training partners! Antoine for hand to hand, Sans for skeleton attacks and you for my flower power! My stats are going to get maxed out!"

 

"Yep, you're going to be soooo OP." The flower said with an evil little laugh.

 

"Ok I'm gonna shower,uh, later." Sans muttered still reeling.

 

"Make sure you close the door, pervy. I'm watching you!" 

 

"Now who's the pervert?" Sans growls, shortcutting out of the way when the flower fires one last pellet at his head. 

 

The rest of the day goes on without with a little less excitement. Sans goes out to some interviews, Antoine came in on their break to play cards, Frisk and Flowey mostly played around, watched movies and caught up. It was only a few weeks since they'd stopped living together but it felt like a lot longer. 

 

They had both changed plenty since then. 

 

A few days later Frisk goes right back to it, waking early, making breakfast with Flowey's help then running out to the yard to practice using their flowers. For someone who was usually so impatient, Flowey seemed to have an endless supply of patience to offer Frisk for their lessons. Flowey and Antoine go through the usual drills for a bit, the flower adding his insight and showing Frisk how to best use their vines. They go on like this for a while until they notice Sans in the back porch, watching; a cup of coffee steaming in his hand. Antoine approaches him with a polite wave.

 

"Good morning, Mr. Sans. Want to join us?"

 

He chuckles, taking a sip from his cup and raising a brow. “Need a break?”

 

“Why, are you offering to relieve me?” they quip right back.

 

“Relief from what? Are they beating ya already?”

 

“Certainly not, but I’m sure they can benefit from switching partners every now and again.” they said pointedly. 

 

They proceed to have what can only be called a standoff, Sans staring up with his coffee still in hand, Antoine with their hands on their hips and their head tilted to the side. Both Antoine and Papyrus kept pushing Sans to teach Frisk how to fight like a true skeleton, but just as he did with any of the many things that made him uneasy, he procrastinated in a last ditch effort to get out of doing it. The best they’d gotten out of him was playing the punning punching bag for a couple of hours, but nobody was happy with that arrangement.

 

“Anyone is fine, just stop showing off!” Frisk shouted from the other end of the yard, they did not appreciate the interruption to their training.

 

“Well then, I need to go do some rounds and check on the security system. Mr. Sans I suggest you give them some pointers on how to use their bone attacks, they are still mostly dodging and bombarding everything with pellets.”

 

“Hey! Don’t make it sound like I don’t know what I’m doing!” Frisk says playfully.

 

Antoine gave them both a slightly devious smile. “I’ll see you two in an hour, enjoy.”

 

Sans scowls after them shaking his head. 

 

"So...what are you teaching me today?" Frisk said, still playful but with some doubt.

 

Sans can hear the hope in their voice, bright and frail. They remind him of Papyrus years ago, eager to learn, innocent and playful; except that unlike his brother their voice makes his soul flutter almost painfully in his ribcage. He turns to them with a serious look and downs the rest of his coffee, a line of it dribbles down his chin and he swipes it with the back of his hand.

 

"I'm gonna teach ya how to be OP as fuck." He snarls dramatically. 

 

Frisk's eye lights up, a brilliant and cheerfully yellow like a tiny sun. He shortcuts away and comes back in his sweats and hoodie, wearing sneakers that are actually tied this time. He's serious. Frisk is practically jumping in place and Flowey is a bit skeptical but settles down to watch them, not before giving him a warning to keep his eyes to himself.

 

Sans ignores him and circles Frisk until he stands ways across from them in a relaxed fighting stance. "Alright kiddo. I want you...to hit me."

 

"Masochist." Murmurs Flowey, earning him a bone attack.

 

"What?" 

 

"Yer goal is to hit me. Yer already awesome at dodging, not much I can tell ya there that Antoine hasn't told ya yet. But ya haven't gotten the hang of attacking, so I want ya to hit me."

 

Frisk throws a doubtful look at Flowey. "With what?"

 

"With all ya got. I want ya to hit me as hard as you can. Knock me down"

 

"...are you sure, what if I hurt you?"

 

"He deserves it for taking advantage of your innocence, just give him a good one!" Flowey cheers from the side.

 

"Just ignore him and focus." Sans snarls, though his face is turning red.

 

"Ok, just...promise you won't let me hurt you for real, okay?" They say, finally taking their fighting stance.

 

"Promise." He says deadly serious while lifting his pinky, they nod.

His eye sockets widen when Frisk engages him and his soul phases out of his ribs.

 

Barely a moment later they're dashing at him, fast on their feet, balanced and focused. A cloud of pellets surrounds them and close in on him like an angry swarm, he waits until the last moment to shortcut out of the way. But they turn to him just as fast, turning the swarm to him. This goes on for a while, they target him and he waits until the last second to teleport away. Sans is trying to test their stamina, but not too much. He knows they can outlast him easily and sees no need to push it, rather he wants them to force then to use their bone attacks on him. 

 

He doesn't have to wait too long, Frisk summons a set of bones around themselves, standing in the middle of the field. They're so clever he feels a swell of pride in his ribcage, they know they can't chase him down so they're waiting for him to show himself to target him. A defensive position that is perfect for a counterattack. He tries not to imagine them doing the same with a real enemy, just standing there waiting to be attacked.

 

Sans shortcuts behind them and they hurl a bone at him, they still hadn't gotten the hang of making the bones come up from under the ground. He dodges easily a couple of times more, but on that last shortcut he feels a pattering against his hoodie. He glances over his shoulder to see some pellets spread there. They got him, just a little, but he has no time to check how many are on him since another bone is flying at his face. He dodges easily, shortcutting short distances is not as tiring so he keeps going. Flowey is cheering loudly in the background but he ignores him, enraptured by the intense expression on Frisk's face.

 

They're trying their best, and seeing that makes his soul fill with shining appreciation. It's a good thing they don't ask him to attack them, his attacks would do no damage with all these feelings burning in his ribcage. He notices something then, their eye is brighter than usual, are they...? They are staring at his soul, they're trying to track him as he shortcuts. He has no time to think much more as they fire a set of bones rapidly at him, one every time he shortcuts. They never get closer to hitting him but every time he shortcuts there is a bone waiting for him on the other side. This cat and mouse game goes on for a while, his attention is focused on dodging the well-timed attacks and on their face, looking for signs of exhaustion. He doesn't want them to strain themselves.

 

Then something changes, their bone attacks become fewer but faster and they start to move. He thinks for a moment they're trying to predict where he's going to shortcut to, so they can catch him on the other side but then he notices they are actually getting farther away. Just as the thought crosses his mind the pellets and bones disappear, the magic returning to Frisk. They stand there with a hand stretched out and a shield of bone surrounds them, spinning. 

 

Sans recognizes the gesture, he looks down and sees his body peppered in lights, his legs in particular look like tiny christmas trees. He shortcuts away, fast and sporadic but even though their eye is not lit, they always seem to know where he is and the flowers are blooming fast. He tries to rip them off but every time he stops shortcutting the plants spread even faster. He shortcuts again and again, using his magic to tear the flowers off but he soon realizes that when he does that they’re soaking up his magic like water. 

 

Even the shortcutting keeps feeding them until he can't anymore, he falls out of the last shortcut and stumbles, the plants tie his feet together and he falls into a sitting position. He claws the flowers away but the distance only makes it easier for the plants to tie his hands to his legs. The plants dig deep and hard into the ground sticking him there despite his struggles. He pulls hard and hears them tearing but by then Frisk has made their way to him calmly, a long bone in their hand pointed at him, as if holding him at sword point. They are sweaty and their face glows with the strain, but they did it, they knocked him down. He can't help but feel impressed.

 

Instead of praise though, he blurts out: "Ya didn't hit me." 

 

"I didn't have to." They say smiling.

"Heh, ya got me, kid. Ya got me." He chuckles, with a lazy nod.

 

They give a relieved sigh and plop down on the floor in front of him breathing hard to get a hold of their magic. They exchange a look and start laughing, light and fun. Frisk knew this was just training, that if Sans was attacking things would've turned out completely different, but they can't stave off the sense of accomplishment they feel at just stopping him. Flowey rushes to them then, the short legs of the drone kicking up dirt behind him.

 

"That was awesome! Ya beat him, Frisk! And on your first try too. How's that for training, bonehead?" 

 

"Yeah, they got me good. They were too clever for me." He smiles at them and they blush, coming closer to help him out of the binds.

 

"Too spooky for you." They murmur, hands placed over Sans' as they make the plants let go of him. He gets up pats the dirt off himself, then nudges them playfully as they go back to the house. 

 

They both go take a quick shower, Frisk upstairs and Sans in the guard's bathroom. Flowey sits in the living room editing some of the video he took of the fight, adding music and effects. Even if only their friends could see it, it would be enough. He resists the urge of making a meme out of Sans falling on his ass for all of a minute before he gives in. The skeletons walk in on him cackling evilly to himself and decide it's best to leave him be, then head out to the kitchen to make lunch. Sans and Frisk talk while they prepare, going over the fight, what they did and how they could improve. Frisk listens to him with an enthusiasm he hadn't seen in them for a while. Sans still can't believe they would hold his opinion in such high regard, that simply supporting them could make them so...happy.

 

“Who taught you how to fight?” they ask, he stirs the pot quietly for a while before turning to them.

 

“...My old man.” he says neutrally.

 

“I-can you teach me how he taught you? I want to be as strong as you and Papyrus.” they say flexing an imaginary bicep.

 

They sound so excited, he can't look at their face when he replies. “I don’t think ya want that."

 

Frisk stays quiet for a while, the bubbling pot on the stove and Flowey's laugh coming from the living room are the only sounds then. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Sans lets out a single, bitter laugh; they really are too perceptive sometimes. “Not a lot to say. The old man was...a scientist more than anything." He fidgets with the meat on the glass tupperware with his claws for a bit, then realizes it's gross and he sticks it in the oven. 

 

"We uh, didn’t spend too much time together outside of the lab; so he taught me how to use my magic while we worked. Like an experiment I guess... everything was like a project to him, even raising us. He didn't use to be like that but after ma' fell, it was all just that: a bunch o work. Not the best place to grow up but ya definitely learn somethin.”

 

“Did he teach Papyrus too? You guys are really different, you fight different.” they ask gently. 

 

He washes his hands while he talks, they gather the dirty dishes, not staring at him too much; it makes it easier to talk. Sans stares out the window over the sink, half looking at his reflection and half staring at nothing.

 

“When he was smaller, yeah. Then Gaster started doing some, uh, questionable shit in the lab and I didn’t let him anymore. Old man didn’t argue, not really, so I took over teachin Paps. After dad had his...accident, you know I lost my job and the house; got in the gang and Paps...I guess he was disappointed in me. He signed up for the guard, so they taught him the rest. Well, that and he bust his spine training everyday so he got real good at it.”

 

“I...I can't imagine Papyrus ever being disappointed in you.” He frowns at that. “Sorry is that-?"

 

"Nah, yer fine. Yer right, I guess. You'd have to do some pretty fucked up shit for him to stop believing in ya. We just...argued a lot back then."

 

"I understand. Could you-I mean, would you teach me more? Like, are you ok with it?”

 

They put their hand on his arm so he looks at them now, sees the hope on their face, feels the pang in his ribcage, persistent as it ever was.

 

“Yeah, I can work with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! For those that saw this when it was posted, you know I did not even write notes the first time. I was in that big of a rush to post this. I have been working this whole time with the chapters but I re-check them so much I end up not making the weekly updates. I'm not going to disappear for three months again. The story is already on its final arc and I intend to finish it as soon and as well as I can. I hope that all you wonderful readers will stay here until that point and if you found this fic waaaay after I published it: I am glad you found it. 
> 
> Thank you and I'll see ya on the next one!


	48. Precious Illusions

“I don’t think I can do this Paps.” Sans sighs, twiddling a ketchup bottle in his hands and sitting on the roof of the house that night.

 

“What do you mean? I think you are doing a magnificent job Sans! Your trust in them has grown incredibly and I know you can keep it up.”

 

“I dunno.'S just, it used to be hard to believe that they could do all this, but, heh, they keep surprising me.” he says with obvious fondness.

 

“You don't sound too surprised, you probably already knew they could do it! I mean, you love them very much, so of course you believe in them!”

 

Sans chokes on his ketchup at that. “Don’t say it like that, jeez...Yeah I care bout them, but still. This is not-I can’t keep acting like it’s fine. It ain’t fine.”

 

“Hmm, do you mean the problem with the souls?”

 

“Yeah, but I know I can’t frigging solve that right now. I meant the whole-ugh- ‘letting them do whatever’ deal. It’s messing with my head. I dunno, I can’t just keep acting like, like we’re training them to fight when…”

 

“When you rather they didn’t.” Papyrus finishes. 

 

Sans’ eye sockets widen, maybe it wasn’t Frisk being too perceptive, it could be he was just becoming easier to read. His brother is giving him a patient smile by the time he manages to look back into the projector. 

 

“I understand how you feel brother, but I thought you already learned this lesson. It hurts to lie, to pretend you can protect someone. It's not your job to protect them.”

 

Sans' eyelights disappear at that. “Heh, glad it ain't my job cause I’d be fired by now! Their friend got killed in front of them, they helped someone Fall and to top it all off someone’s always tryin’a kill ‘em. Hell, we tried to kill them, multiple times! We’re keepin ‘em safe after we tried to kill them. Do ya not see how fucked up that is?! ”

 

“Watch your language Sans and listen to your brother! I understand, believe me. We've all made mistakes, but we chose to learn from them and that makes all the difference. Frisk knows that...they forgave you over and over so why, brother, why can’t you forgive yourself?”

 

“I...that’s not what this is about.” he mumbles looking away again.

 

“It's not? Whatever, it still adds to it! I think you’re afraid of trusting them. You’re afraid they’ll push you away, but you’re pushing them away!”

 

“I know I am...but that’s not what I want.”

 

“Then what do you want?” he raises his scarred browbone at him, a challenge.

 

“I want ‘em to be safe...to be happy.”

 

“And you want to protect them.” Papyrus adds, stroking his chin.

 

“Well, yeah. That’s part of keepin em safe.”

 

Papyrus laughs, not in his usual boisterous tone, but with sadness. “No, it isn’t. They don’t need you to be safe. In fact, they don’t need you at all.”

 

“Gee, thanks bro.”

 

The taller brother gives him a pointed frown and he takes the cue, sipping his ketchup quietly, waiting. 

 

“Frisk is their own person and just like you, they don’t need protecting. They don’t need you around, they want you around. Just like The Great Papyrus wants you around and loves you for who you are Sans; and though you are not as great as me in your own way you are truly magnificent! They know that too...that is most likely why they put up with your awful puns...”

 

Sans laughs at that, tipping his head back. “If you say so.”

 

“I do, in fact I know so. Do you know how me and my love met?”

 

The question catches him off guard, with the thanks he was about to say stuck in his mouth. “Uh, yeah, at the guard. Ya were both... hunters.” he blurts out.

 

“Precisely, we were assigned as partners. Do you know why?”

 

Sans shrugs, becoming more and more uncomfortable, this was starting to feel like a set up for some sort of lesson. Knowing his brother it was bound to get uncomfortable.

 

“He’s a killer robot, that can track anyone and you, uh ya were the captain, boss.”

 

“Yes, that is what it looked like...but what actually happened is a little different.” Papyrus’ face turns serious, Sans tucks the ketchup away focusing on him. “You see, Mettaton’s body was-it was meant to be…a-a-”

 

“A weapon...I know. I saw the plans at the lab.”

 

His younger brother laughs, but again there’s nothing amused about the sound. 

 

“Of course, it's always the lab... Did they also tell you bout his switch?”

 

“Not a lot, but some. Used to be for changing back and forth between forms, I think. What part are we talkin ‘bout here?”

 

“The part where if Mettaton did not follow a command flipping the switch would force him to. The part where they assigned me to do just that. The part where they forced him to kill and track and dispose of bodies when he didn’t want to.” he says in a rush as if the pain was fresh for him still.

 

“They what?!...did you?” he hadn’t heard this part, by then he was already in the gang and hadn’t kept up with what the lab was doing. He should’ve paid more attention.

 

“I flipped that switch once and I regret it. Every time he didn’t do what they told him there was this thing built in that would zap him. But the signal wasn’t working well so they gave me control over it. I controlled the switch, I controlled Mettaton.” The light fades from his sockets then, his voice quieter than Sans has heard it in years.

“I was supposed to lead him when we fought and punish him if he didn’t follow orders. He did what I asked him but I couldn’t stand the idea of hurting him. So one day I begged him to let me take off the switch. I told him I couldn’t stand seeing my favorite star suffer, that I wanted to save him if I could and you know what he did?”

 

“Uh, say thanks?” 

 

Papyrus laughs, loud and joyful this time. “No. He slapped me!”

 

“What!? Why the hell-”

 

“He told me ‘I’m not some damsel in distress! I deserve your respect, not your pity!’ Then he slapped me right in the face...and you know what? He was right.”

 

Before Sans can say anything else, Papyrus lifts his finger to stop him and continues. 

“Mettaton chose to let Alphys experiment on him. He was willing to do anything, to have the body he wanted...except fighting human children, but that’s beside the point. Did you know he actually short circuited the switch himself? He was able to overcome his programming with the power of his choice!” the admiration in his voice is evident, Sans doesn’t have to see his soul to know its probably blindingly bright right about now. Papyrus loved everyone too much sometimes.

 

“That’s...I didn’t know that. But what does this even have to do with Frisk? I don’t get what yer tryin'a tell me. That Metatton didn't mean it or that he did?” Sans shuffles to his feet and starts pacing around the roof in his slippers, kicking some of the snow piled there.

 

“No, well yes, he did unfortunately but that’s not why I told you this.” Papyrus looks at him and Sans notices there are bags under his eyes too. He feels a slight pang of guilt at the fact his are not that bad anymore, despite everything things are so much calmer here. He sits back down and listens, really listens this time.

 

“Mettaton said that by trying to save him I was taking away his chance to save himself. It made me realize: he didn’t need me saving him! That he wouldn’t be where he is if he couldn’t save himself!” There is a fire in Papyrus’ good eye socket and Sans can feel one of his cape fluttering moments coming up in his bones. “Because, Sans, in the end the challenges we face and how we face them are what make us who we are!” And there it was, the cape was indeed fluttering, but the moment died quickly and was replaced by yet another serious look. This conversation had too many of those. “Taking that from someone...really is selfish.” 

 

Sans feels his brother's words hit him right in the soul and he hangs his head. Papyrus was right, he knew he was suffocating Frisk, stunting their growth with his fear. But why? What was it that he couldn’t bear to let go? What was it that terrified him? 

 

The answer was always the same: Losing them.

 

But was losing them just about death anymore? It wasn’t, he knew that even if he didn’t want to admit it, there was more to his fear than that. Rolled up with the guilt and the worry was an almost juvenile fear of rejection and a tiny spark of hope that they might just let him stay by their side. The hope they’d want him there, that they could stay like this, living together a little longer. But more than that...the hope that even if Frisk had the freedom to leave, they would still choose to stay. 

 

“Do you understand now, Sans?”

 

“...Yeah.” he mumbled.

 

“I’m glad. Please accept this digital brotherly love as your prize!”

 

Sans chuckles and spreads his arms, watching Papyrus nearly squeeze the projector to bits in his bony arms. After a brief goodbye he shortcuts back inside mind reeling and his ribs aching from the rollercoaster of emotion. 

 

“Oh, you’re back. I was-”

 

Sans jumps, his magic sparking in his eye and his hand for a moment. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t seen them there. Frisk gives him a clueless look before they crack up and start laughing in a hushed tone. He’s so shocked he starts laughing too for some reason.

 

“Did I just send a shiver down your spine, Sans?”

 

“Gawd no, ya really are becoming a creeper kid! I didn't see ya there. What're ya doing up?”

 

“I woke up with the munchies.” They shrug. “I think the flower thing made me hungrier.”

 

“Huh...you alright though?”

 

“Yes, mom, I’m fine. Eating my greens and brushing my teeth.” they rummage in the pantry and roll their eyes at him. 

 

“Whatcha making?” 

 

“Cereal, you want some?” 

 

“What kind?” he asks just to make sure. 

 

Sans was pretty sure Papyrus had the guards raid the pantry for ‘unhealthy snacks’ periodically, either that or someone kept eating his Chocolate Marshmallow Mateys when he wasn’t looking. 

 

“The diabetus inducing kind.” Frisk says with a wicked smile.

 

“Then sign me up, pretty sure we can’t get the diabetus, sugar.” he opens the cabinet with magic to get his bowl but they grab it and shock his magic away with their own. If that had been his hand, Sans was pretty sure that would count as a slap. He lets Frisk get the cereal and just rests his head on his hands to watch them.

 

“Alphys said we can’t, technically, but we can still get sick if we eat too much stuff like this. Like magic sick, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, I know...we call it die-of-itis.”

 

“Eat your cereal, Sans.” 

 

Sans chuckled but did as he was told, it was so quiet here you could hear the appliances humming and the occasional steps of one of the guards downstairs. Despite the decoration this house felt a little lonelier than the New Orleans one somehow; though the place back there had been more of a base than a home, the fact it was smaller meant they were all usually in the same place. With the training, the guards coming and going, the search that kept them on their toes, there always was something to occupy their minds. More than that, even the nights had always been filled with the sound of frogs, distant music and the odd thrill of wonder that permeated the city. Even Jackson had the occasional car passing by, the chatter of the neighbors sometimes audible through the windows. Sweden was much too quiet by comparison, it felt like they were in a bubble and nothing much existed beyond these walls. 

 

It was a little unnerving.

 

“It's quiet here, I’m still not used to it yet.” they say, as if they could read his mind.

 

“Yeah, I was just thinking that.” he glances at them, they look thoughtful.

 

“I wanted to talk to you before.”

 

“About?” a nightmare, it had to be.

 

“Flowey.” Frisk says.

 

He’d been wrong before, though it seemed like more often than not lately.

 

"What’s going on with the lil creep?” 

 

“He’s acting different, like he knows something. He tells me everything usually unless it affects someone else.” they give him a meaningful glance, Sans holds their eye, but it costs him. He'd likely keep feeling ashamed of his actions for years to come, even without them bringing it up.

 

“But...it feels different. Like he’s waiting for something. Or like he’s getting ready for something, I dunno. I’m just worried; I wanted to ask you to keep an eye out. I’m not sure you’d noticed it.”

 

“I didn’t, I got a lot of shit on my mind. Thought he was just pissed cause we split up. I’ll keep an eye on him from now on.”

 

“Thanks...I, um also wanted to talk to you about something else.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

Frisk pushes their bowl aside and turns to him, that’s how he knows this is serious. He gulps. “Just...thank you for training with me. I wanted to for a while now and it really helped me. I’m glad you know you can trust me like that.” they're hugging him him before he can say anything back. 

 

His arms wrap around them automatically but his brain is trying to figure out what he did to deserve this. He doesn’t have time to figure it out, even when they linger there. Like his fear and his feelings for them just clashed and found themselves at a standstill, he’s just numb.

 

“You ok? You look a little, um, derpy.” they ask cautiously.

 

“Just sleepy.”

 

“So you are derping.”

 

“Dozing, but close enough kid.”

 

“Here I am pouring my heart out and you’re sleeping.” 

 

“Woah there, I said dozing, not sleeping. I listened to everything ya said, it was the hug that made me sleepy.” he says without thinking.

 

“Aw does Sansy like his cuddles?” they make a face while tickling his ribs, he’s too sleepy to move away and just shuffles on the stool uncomfortably.

 

“Don’t call me that, jeez, you sound like Flowey.” he grumbles holding their hands away from him as best as he can, which is barely 

 

“Well he is my best friend.”

 

“And what am I? Chopped liver?”

 

“I dunno, I thought you were Sans.” they give him a shit-eating grin, he stares at them dumbfounded. 

 

“...Did you just throw a dad-joke at me?” 

 

“No that’s a regular joke that you just walked into.”

 

“No, that’s a dad joke if I ever heard one.” he grins helplessly.

 

“You’re just jealous because it was good.” they say poking his sternum.

 

“A lil bit. Guess I really sleep-walked into that one.” 

 

“Ok you need your sleep, go, get out of here.” they shove him playfully until he’s on his feet and together they drop the dishes in the sink and head down the hall. “Good night, Sans. Get some sleep.” they say in hushed tones, their door half open.

 

“Yeah, you too, Frisk. We both need the damn rest.”

 

“That and cause I don’t want you to keep trying to make that sleepwalking joke.”

 

“Ouch, kid. Ya need to work on your pillow talk.” 

 

“And you need to work on your jokes.” they stick their tongue out at him.

 

“Ya hurt me kid, ya hurt me bad.” he puts his hand on his chest and their mouth twists, in order not to smile. Sans gives them a playful grin and they return it, still frowning with fond annoyance.

 

“Sans, you better not be hitting on Frisk, you weirdo!” a snarl comes from inside.

 

“Shhh, he’s just making bad jokes again; go back to sleep, Flowey.” Frisk whispers.

 

“Jeez, really feelin the love here, kid.”

 

“That's probably cause I do love you. Even if your jokes are bad."

 

"Wha?" 

 

"Night, Sans.” they shake their head, still smiling as they close the door.

 

Sans stands there after that, wondering when did the feeling in his ribcage become so predictable. He half expected it already, but what he didn’t expect was not to feel guilty about it anymore. It had to be either the exhaustion or something about Papyrus’ speech that had stuck to him. Whatever had caused it he dared not even move, irrationally afraid that somehow looking at it too close would make it go away.

 

Still, he goes to bed, trying and failing not to repeat that last moment in his head. Their smile silhouetted by the shadows of the hall and the faint light that came in through their window. The words they always said so carelessly and the way his heart clung to them desperately. Like something precious, like something he couldn’t afford to let go but didn’t have the courage to face properly. That night may not given him back any lost sleep, but it definitely served to push back the oppressive silence. The house doesn’t feel as lonely anymore because maybe they did want him here, by their side.

 

He hopes so, at least he can admit that now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I just realized more than half my chapter titles are song verses but they have no in chapter or in the notes. Either way for those who are interested this is an Alanis Morisette song, by that same name and it is very fitting with the themes I wanted to work on for this fic, especially from Sans' perspective. If you have any other questions feel free to ask and check out the artwork at my tumblr and instagram under the same name: Lohrhunter. 
> 
> Have a great day and thank you for reading my fanwork!


	49. What we give up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys, Argyle and Undyne finish finding the components of the barrier while Mettaton tries his fabulous hand at attracting the attention of the blue soul host.

****  
  


Alphys looks around the chamber with misplaced nostalgia, this place used to hold such a deep meaning to them, yet here it was, mostly forgotten. The cavern is very high, like a natural chimney formed millenia ago that leads all the way to the surface, sunlight filters through a hole in the ceiling and bits of snow flutter down disappearing before they reach the bottom. The humid air from the cave, warmed by the magic from the capital nearby keeps melting most of the snow before it reaches here, so that golden flowers grow plentiful around them even in the dying winter. 

 

There are so many that it's impossible to tell the grave beneath them is now empty.    
  


 

"So this is the last one, i-isn’t it?" The doctor asks quietly.   
  


 

"It would seem so." Argyle replies thoughtfully.   
  


 

"Ya don't sound too happy, old man. Doesn't this mean we got everything we need?" Undyne crosses her arms, unintentionally menacing.   
  


 

"I'm... confused. This isn't what I expected." He says rubbing his head and scribbling on his tablet.    
  


 

"This base is at the center, same distance from all the others, that's w-what's wrong, right?" Alphys asks from the floor, halfway through taking some of the flowers to compare at the lab.   
  


 

"Not necessarily, this is still a proper circle. That's hardly the cause of concern. It’s that I expected to find an altar, a place where the... sacrifices let's say, would be placed to activate this barrier."   
  


 

"Where the humans souls would go, right?" Undyne asks.   
  


 

"Precisely, only this is another base. Six bases form the circle, the last one is at the center. Which means this spell...it was cast from the inside out."   
  


 

Alphys shakes her head, flabbergasted, that's not what their history said, then again so little of it had survived she shouldn't be surprised. After all, none of them had even begun to grasp how the barrier worked until now.   
  


 

"So those sickos trapped themselves in here with us? Talk about being desperate, that is so messed up." The fishwoman growls.   
  


 

"No, they didn't. If there is no altar, it means there’s no place for the sacrifices.  ** They ** were the sacrifices, they used their own souls to put up the barrier." He says heavily, kneeling before the grave to move the flowers aside, the boulder on which they set the gravestone is the same marbled purple of the other bases.   
  


 

Sometime, centuries ago a mage like him stood here and gave their soul to end the war. Though the magi caused such harm, they were also so misguided he couldn't help but feel sorry for them. To use your soul as fuel for a spell, to purposefully trap it, doomed to be without a body or a mind for centuries...it was a terrible fate for anyone to be subjected to.   
  


 

"That's...pretty hardcore. But damn, if they were so great, why make it so that you'd have to use even more souls to open it? And not just any, but like, really specific ones?" Undyne asks.   
  


 

He collects himself and looks up at her thoughtfully. "I don't think that was on purpose, the fact it unlocks was intentional but the kind of souls that were needed is not really something they chose, it was more of a...how do you say?"   
  


 

"A circumstantial requirement." Alphys puts in.   
  


 

"Like it just happened to need those?" Undyne asks.   
  


 

"No more like, it couldn't be helped; the barrier wouldn't have worked otherwise. I mean, if they used such a huge amount of energy to create the barrier it only makes sense that an equal or greater force would be needed t-to unlock it. So we needed seven similar souls to unlock it." Alphys says, putting way her samples. They gape at her for a moment, even after knowing her for years the way she understands and is able to simplify things always manages to leave Undyne speechless.   
  


 

"I would think so too. But other than the magic formulas we don't have any evidence. We have no idea what they were thinking and war...tends to bring out the strangest things in people." Argyle says,his tone heavy.   
  


 

Undyne pats his shoulder in what she probably believes is a comforting gesture, but looks a lot more like she's trying to make him spit out his lungs. "So, is that it then?"   
  


 

"For now...all that's left is to put it all together. Once we have the finished formula, we can try to reverse it, properly this time." Argyle says.   
  


 

"Whatever was missing the first time, we can fix it. T-then maybe Frisk can..." Alphys stops and chews her lip. She doesn't know what that means for them yet.   
  


 

"We need to be cautious, but yes. If we can recreate a smaller version of this magic and undo it properly, we should be able to do the same on a bigger scale. Once we're ready we can... finally lay this all to rest."   
  


 

Undyne gives him another, this time gentler, pat. "Hope so, old man, I really hope so."    
  


 

They all hope so; it was high time this whole ordeal ended so that monsters and humans could put the past behind them where it belonged.   
  


 

  
  
  
  
  
  
The flashy, yet compact car stops at the main entrance of the hospital complex. The butler turns to the passenger's seat, where an even flashier robot sits. It is time, yet again, for the butler to be the voice of reason.   
  


 

"I would just like to state that, for the record, I don’t think this is a good idea."   
  


 

"Oh, nonsense. Don't be daft, Jacques, this is a great idea." Mettaton said, fixing his lashes in the mirror.   
  


 

"Please don't make fun of my accent, sir."   
  


 

"I'm not making fun of you, how is this flashy? I'm not even wearing shoulder pads!" He gestures to himself, wearing a mint green nurse outfit tailored to his... particular proportions.   
  


 

"With all due respect sir, you are always very flashy."

 

They stare at each other for a moment, Mettaton looming over him as if to exert authority. Jaques’ expression stays neutral and then, finally, his boss sighs in defeat. At least he knows he’s being ridiculous.    
  


 

"Fine, I'll wear the scrubs they sent me. Happy now?"   
  


 

"Yes, yes I am. That nurse outfit is too inappropriate for visiting a children's hospital. Frankly, I also think we should take the backdoor like they suggested."   
  


 

Mettaton gives him an offended look and puffs steam through his nose, like a derisive dragon.   
  


 

"Fine, but if our host remains unimpressed by the end of the day I will hold you personally responsible."   
  


 

"I highly doubt someone who volunteers at the hospital and lives in a mansion would be impressed by a nurse outfit and a light show... sir."   
  


 

"You're such a buzzkill sometimes, you know that?"    
  


 

Mettaton storms out of the car, slamming the door with as much dramatic force as he can without actually breaking it. Jaques raises his eyebrow and calmly waits for Mettaton to realize they need to drive to the back entrance and get back in the car. They head inside, where the hospital's manager is already waiting for them, letting Mettaton change into a pair of regular, navy blue scrubs.   
  


 

 

The hospital is not very big and they rely on donations from the community to continue running smoothly. The manager gives them a brief tour, indulging Mettaton as he stands at one of the desks to chat with the nurses. They leave a crowd of swooning patients and employees wherever they go, gaining momentum until reach the children's ward. The manager stops them right at the entrance, turning around suddenly.   


 

"Look Mr. Mettaton, I'm going to be level with you. I know you're busy and I know you famous people do this all the time just to get a little gold star on your record. But for these kids? It means the world. We're not a big hospital and we're not needy enough to warrant being on TV as a sob story; we're average. You're the probably the only celebrity they'll get to see; so I ask that even if you don't have a lot of time, you give them all of your attention while you're here. Can you do that?"   
  


 

Mettaton is immediately impressed, it's unusual for someone he just met to be so direct. He quickly recovers giving her a sincere smile. Her shoulders relax just a moment right before he grasps them.   
  


 

"I assure you, darling, I'm not here for the fame; I'm here to make sure I blow their little minds!" He throws his arm around her and bursts through the door, music booming and laughing his fabulous laugh.    
  


 

The manager looks distressed but the kids, oh the kids cheer and squeal with joy, they clap and get up from their chairs, a truly captivated audience. They love him of course, but after the expected light show and some song requests from the children he settles down. He sits with them in a circle, playing question games to get to know them better. Mettaton in turn answers all the questions they have about him, showing off the mechanical wonders of his body.   
  


 

There are about thirty kids, both human and monster of different ages; all of them in various degrees of recovery. Mettaton lets them use him like a karaoke machine and play around with the lights of his projectors. He plays at dressing them with his holograms, tells them backstage gossip and lets them braid his hair. The nurses all but stand back to take pictures and watch, just as charmed as the kids are.    
  


 

  
The hours pass and eventually the kids have to return to their treatment, Mettaton promises he will come back to visit as the crowd dwindles. The manager thanks him and lets him know it's okay if he wants to publish the fact he came in, so long as he doesn't use pictures with the kid's faces on them at which he makes a dramatic gasp.   
  


 

"Mrs. Willis, you wound me! Like I said, I didn't come here as part of a publicity stunt. I'm always only interested in pleasing my fans."   
  


 

She presses her lips as if to repress a smile and nods, it seems he is now well in his way to charming her too.    
  


 

"I wanted to get to visit while I was here and you were right about the volunteers: they only go for the fancy or the extremely needy. Any hospital could use some volunteers. The patients are happy to see artists no matter where they are. I'll make to tell my company about it, we could even make your hospital an apprentice site if you like?"   
  


 

"I thought the volunteer work was a contract requirement?" She asks cooly.   
  


 

"There are required community service hours yes, but after they are hired, they get to choose where they volunteer. The MTT  brand priotizes pleasing your fans at every given chance. Without an audience there are no superstars. Artists need to appreciate and understand that if they want to work with me, you know I can't stand slackers, darling."   
  
  


Mettaton puts his arm on her shoulder, more carefully this time, she rolls her eyes but looks pleased. He waves at Jaques and he walks over, nodding politely but distracted by a small monster wearing a hood and cowl, that walks in quietly behind them.   
  


 

"This is my head butler, Jaques. He is simply spectacular; don't know what I'd do without him."    
  


 

"Pleasure to meet you Madam." The butler gives a smooth half bow, she's stunned for a moment before shaking his hand as briskly as she had Mettaton's.    
  


 

"Likewise." She turns at the sound of children’s voices behind her. "Oh, Lupan! You missed the show this morning. Mr. Mettaton this is one of our regular volunteers, Lupan DuFae. He's doing his doctor's apprenticeship here at the hospital."   
  


 

The small monster sighs in what is clearly a suffering way before turning his head up at them. He has startling blue eyes, even for a monster.   
  


 

"It's nice to meet you both." He says rather coldly. "Thank you for visiting the children's ward, they had a great time today." He says more sincerely after glancing at the patients.   
  


 

"Oh my, it's wonderful to meet you! I'm glad there's such ambitious young folk working here at the hospital. It’s very inspiring." Mettaton says, leaning down and trapping Lupan's fin inside his hands for an overly long handshake.   
  


 

Jaques nudges him out of the way and shakes the host's hand as well, then Lupan excuses himself taking each of the children by the hand. The two boys have bandages over their eyes and on other parts of their body, so they reluctantly let Lupan guide them out of the room. Mettaton is about to open his mouth to go after them but Jaques puts a firm a hand on his shoulder.   
  


 

"Thank you for everything Mrs. Willis but Mr. Mettaton has an appointment we must be getting to, he tends to lose track of time when he is with his fans. Which is why I have to keep an eye on him, you understand." He smiles meaningfully.   
  


 

"Oh, that's alright. Frankly I don't think anyone expected you to stay so long! Not trying to be rude but I genuinely thought you were just...worried about your image and I'm glad I was wrong. You're welcome to come here anytime you like, Mr. Mettaton." This time she does smile.   
  


 

Mettaton gives Jaques a look but doesn't press it and lets himself be lead outside, through the back door. He waits until they are driving away to properly explode.

 

"I can't believe you, Jaques! Was that really necessary? He was right there!"   
  


 

"Sir, I don't think he would appreciate this approach. Nobody would, frankly." He says as they stop at a red light.   
  


 

"It's a way of breaking the ice, I am merely-"   
  


 

"Approaching him like this makes it look like you don't care about the children, it's as if you're throwing money at the problem. It makes you look like a vain and egotistical monster trying to buy his approval with your fame."   
  


 

"Well, I-I never! Jaques you know that-"   
  


 

"I know you sir, I know you really do care. But that's not what it looks like. He doesn't know you personally yet. Be patient and approach him one on one, not with his patients in the middle. Acknowledging him as a monster will go farther than him thinking we're trying to buy his loyalty. Meet him where he stands, I know you can do it sir, I believe in you."   
  


 

Jaques can almost hear the machinery inside Mettaton's body quieten to a gentle hum, unwinding from the buzz of an impending rant.  
  


 

"...I know, goddammit, I know. I'm just, I’m actually tired." He admits quietly.   
  


 

"Is it the tours, sir?" The butler asks just as quietly.   
  


 

"No, no, no, I adore touring! I love the rush, the improvisation! I love giving it all I got on stage, to hear the cheer of my fans! I'd missed it…”   
  


 

“Then what is troubling you?”

“Everything else! I’m sitting here on my fabulous metal butt while Papy is working himself to the literal bone! There’s all these double agents in the guard, people are taking this woman’s side even though we’ve done everything to make it clear she’s a murderer and to top it all off his brother’s in the middle of nowhere, hiding, like he's in the witness protection program or something! It's enough to drive anyone nuts!” he pauses from his rapid fire rant to look out the car window and sigh. There is a pink glow to his eyes that has nothing to do with mechanics as tears pool behind the glass.  

 

“I’m worried for him, Jaques, for all of us. I thought leaving the Underground meant we were done with this nonsense and yet here it is again!" He runs a hand through his hair, revealing the circuitry on the right side of his face, like an old scar.  "And what am I doing? Gathering intel? Public relations? I’m useless when it really matters!"

 

Mettaton now vents out some literal steam to from his nose as he sighs, winding down into a slump.   


 

  
"I never thought I'd say this, sir, but you're selling yourself short." He gives the robot a sincere look before turning back to the road. "Your intel is what made it possible to even find the hosts, you've kept an eye on them the entire time, all while still doing your job. Even though it wasn’t a popular opinion you’ve kept showing up on television warning people about Dahlia. You make folk happy to be monsters.”   
  


They stop at a red light and he turns to his boss, magic shining in his eye. “You've done your best and it makes a huge difference, Mettaton. You’re our star, and I am proud to work at your side."

"Park the car, Jaques." Mettaton's voice has changed in tone, as in now it doesn't have one. Jaques frowns in confusion, his nerves making him grip the wheel tighter.

 

"S-sir? I slipped up, that was inappropriate, I-"    
  


 

"Park. The. Car. Jaques." Mettaton repeats, this time slower.   


 

He does as he's told, stopping on the side of the road, right before the expressway that leads to the pent house they’d been staying in for the mission. It had been fun, while it lasted.    
  


 

"You little jerk!" Mettaton exclaims flinging all four of his arms, around his wooden frame. The robot rubs his cheek against the side of his face, shocking him with something like static and he feels Mettaton's affection hit him, like an electric pour of rain.   
  


 

"Sir?" He pats his back numbly, Jaques’ boss has never hugged him this tight before. Mettaton lets go and looks at him in the eye, beaming despite the pink tears glowing in his eyes and floating up into the car roof.    
  


 

"Thanks, Jackie-love, I really needed to hear that! You're such a-oh I'm so glad you're my friend!" He holds his hand firmly in two of his and wipes his tears daintily with another.   
  


 

"You're welcome...sir."    
  


 

"Oh stop it, you. I've been waiting for years for you to call me by my name; don't ruin it for me."   
  


 

"Yes ,si-yes Mettaton." He tries, Mettaton claps his hands excitedly and squeals. Jaques looks away, face glowing with embarrassment and drives back to the penthouse. The whole thing is enough to keep Mettaton's mood on its usual high for the rest of the day. Jaques only wished the rest of their problems were as easily resolved.   
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not enough Mettaton before, now we all get double Mettaton. There will be a lot of him in the next few chapters but I will not leave aside our precious skele-love birds. They will have their chapters too. I will alternate and try to keep the skeleton chapters separate from the other characters so it's not too confusing. Hope you're enjoying it so far and if you want any illustrations for how these characters might look you can check out the tumblr or instagram at the same name: lohrhunter.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope to see ya on the next one!


	50. One more time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton tries to recruit Lupan again, only this time he's not pulling any punches... and closer to home neither is Dahlia.

  
  
  
It would've been easier to let pride do all the talking, to be dazzling and self-serving. But it had been years since he'd taken the easy road to anything and frankly, even his civvies made him look pretty dazzling. Lupan had been coming out of the hospital when he got there, a tiny backpack slung over his shoulder. No matter how hard the young monster tried to avoid him, Mettaton was on a mission. He pulled out the big guns, metaphorically speaking, and did what most teenagers would deem a war declaration: he called Lupan's mom. 

  
  
With the pretext of making her his 'Darling of the week', an MTT sponsored contest where he'd share an afternoon with a randomly selected fan, he invited himself to dinner with the Dufaes. In retrospect this dinner was everything Mettaton needed to keep his mood soaring. Hyacinth, Lupan's mother, was an elegant lady of the old Underground and as such she operated in exchanges. After all the niceties and thanks, she talked about needing research support for her medical company and he in turn offered Alphys as a contact.

  
  
Then came the time to ask for something in return.

  
  
"Right, I almost forgot. I was distracted with the conversation, darling." He wipes his mouth delicately, for a dramatic pause mostly. "There is a very serious matter I came to discuss with you; as a parent but most importantly as a fellow denizen of the old Underground. I think it's better we discuss this alone, if you don't mind”   
  


"Certainly. Lupan, dear."   
  


Lupan tensed visibly, eyes shifting but his body sitting perfectly still. When Mettaton opened his mouth to amend his request Lupan stood up suddenly, which would've been more impressive if he wasn't standing on a stool just to see over the dining table.   
  


"Don't you dare tell her anything, that's not your place!" His voice rose hauntingly, echoing upon itself as if from the bottom of a well.   
  


"Lupan, that is awfully rude of you! Please go to your room."    
  


His mother's voice echoes back, with an unnatural reverberation so strong it can be felt. Mettaton notes how her seemingly mouth expands as she enunciates, taking up most of her face with its multiple rows of teeth. He really did not want to be on the receiving end of this argument, but things were getting out of hand.   
  
  


"Madam, please, it's totally fine. I wanted to talk to both of you, I was just hoping the staff would be out of hearing range as this isn’t something I want to go public."   
  


Hyacinth seems appeased and makes sure they're alone before returning to the table.  
  


"Please don't." Lupan says in a low voice, his eyes intent on Mettaton.   
  


"Lupan, if you don't stay quiet there will be consequences." His mother warns.   
  


"I don't like forcing things, but you are not an adult yet and I think-"   
  


"I am forty seven years old!" Lupan cuts him off.   
  


The robot straightens more in his chair, if that were possible, and shakes his head. "In human years maybe, but you are a monster and I couldn't care less how humans count their years when the fact is you're barely a child!"   
  


"I agree, but what is this discussion about? I demand an explanation, now." Hyacinth's tone leaves no room for discussion, Mettaton is reminded for a moment of his own mom. Goodness she was scary when she gave him that look.    
  


"Well, madam-" he starts.   
  


"No, not from you, sir. I'd appreciate it if my son was kind enough to tell me.   
Lupan...what happened?"    
  
  
  


Lupan said nothing at first, scowling at Mettaton as if he were personally responsible for everything wrong with the world. Then after a while, in a surprisingly quiet voice, he tells them the story of how a beggar came to die on his doorstep, ashes on the ground lit blue by the human soul that had consumed him; and how the power that came with such a soul was now his. The Dufaes were very quiet after his story so Mettaton takes over hoping for the best.   
  


Explaining to Hyacinth what happened with the Human souls at the barrier is a tense and unpleasant business. Mettaton had expected this to be a lot more spectacular, like recruiting Lupan to be a superhero. Instead he is as tactful as possible while explaining what their plans are and what is at stake should they fail.  Once the briefing is done, he faces the most difficult part of this mission: convincing Hyacinth to let them take Lupan with them to Mt. Ebbot. His whole quest had built up to this, he just had to use the right words.   
  


"I'll allow it."   
  


"What?!"    
  


"Really, mother?"   
  


Hyacinth steps closer to Lupan, placing her delicate hands over his shoulders.    
  


"But I hadn't-Are you sure, darling?" Mettaton is momentarily at a loss; he didn't even get to give his speech!   
  


"I'm certain that you and your husband can keep my son safe. I only ask two things."   
  


Mettaton slumped slightly in his chair, this was not going according to the script, but he could definitely improvise. "Certainly, I will do what I can."   
  


"I want him to have guards assigned to him at all times."   
  


"That was always the plan, madam."   
  


"Good. Other than  that I want you to make sure my son gets to finish his apprenticeship."   
  


He knew there was a catch. "Mrs. Dufae, we don't have enough guards to keep the hospital covered for so long."   
  


"I understand that, but I'm sure Dr. Alphys could always use an assistant."   
  


Mettaton smiled wide, perking up. " She certainly can darlings. What do you say, Lupan. You ready to go on tour?" He stood and offered a hand to him in his best prince pose.   
  


"I can't wait." Lupan deadpanned.   
  
  


  
  
It didn't take much to convince Papyrus to have some guards assigned to the hospital for a few days. It took even less for Mettaton to be convinced he was now Lupan's adoptive parent, Lupan was not amused. They spent one last day of work at the hospital before they headed out to Alphys' lab in Mt. Ebbot. Mettaton stuck to Lupan like glue, working the shift as an assistant while ranting incessantly.   
  


“The news are frankly starting to annoy me, they keep insisting on framing her as the victim. All the trending topics are Monster union this, Dhalia that. Did you see the video last week? They have a hashtag now! 'I am Dhalia Horne’ for victims of racism! A serial killer is now the poster child for speciesism. I can't even!” Mettaton rants while folding the towels into swans and stretching his arms across the room to place them on each cot.   
  


“Can you blame them? It’s so public humans can't throw it under the rug. The problem is if they rile those monsters up it could turn violent... She's not alone anymore.” Lupan says ominously.   
  


Mettaton places a hand on his shoulder, this time Lupan doesn't immediately frown and he takes that as a sign of good things to come. His smile widens dazzlingly.    
  
  
“Well, neither are we, darling.”    
  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
The sounds of fighting can be heard from the yard faintly, it's been this way for the past few weeks. First the newly freed prisoners getting rid of the shut-in jitters, now it was her, getting rid of the bedridden blues. Tommy hears the back door on the kitchen open, the brisk steps on the tile and he knows who it is without looking.   
  


“Ya look like shit, how'd it go?” He asks her without lifting his eyes from his cooking as she all but throws herself into one of the chairs.   
  


“I'm good. That girl almost kicked my ass, though.”. Dahlia replies, unwrapping her knuckles and flexing her paw.    
  


Her body is peppered with fresh scars, but they would fade like the others hidden under the fur; nothing seemed to stick with her long enough to scar properly. Tommy shakes his head and places a bottle of hand sanitizer in front of her, holding a plate of eggs and toast aloft until she scrubs her paws. The room smells like raspberries dipped in alcohol. Dhalia digs in, with her mouth curved in a tired, thankful smile.   
  


“Anyone can kick yer ass if you don't feed properly.”    
  


She grunts, pointing at the plate, her mouth too full to answer.   
  


“I wasn't talkin 'bout that kind o food and ya know it.” He brings over two big cups of coffee and sits across her.   
  


“An you know I haven't changed my mind bout that. I'm not gonna push it, ya don't know what could happen to everyone if I keep sucking their magic away."    
  


"That nurse kid’s managing it, why can't you?"   
  


"Yeah? Well he don't got two of these thing eating away at him." Her mouth curls as she sips her coffee.   
  


"I guess...Sugar?"   
  


"Nah, I like the bitter stuff." She says, still smiling.   
  


He didn't need her reminding him, she always dived into the obstacles around her with an almost vicious stubbornness.   
  


"Don't be a masochist now. Ya better think bout what I told ya. Gotta keep yer strength up if ya wanna keep doing this shit." He grumbles.    
  


Tommy felt sorry for her sometimes, for all the things she wanted to change that were far too big for her. But even more than he pitied her, he too wanted to think they could all change their lot in life if they just tried hard enough. Getting money wasn’t an issue, folk would come and go; but if they managed to break humanity's hold over them...nothing would ever be the same for monsters.    
  


For once he wanted something for the benefit of others rather than himself, he wasn't about to let it go.   
  


"Ya really think we need em all?" He asks thoughtfully.   
  


“All the what?”   
  


“All them souls.”   
  


"Yeah. Wasn't that the point?" She looks at him with curiosity.   
  


“ Yeah it is. Just saying, ya might not be able to handle it.” He replies bluntly.   
  


“How would you know?” she gets up, empty plate in hand as if to close the conversation; he does the same, towering over her.   
  


“Yer barely handling this as it is. Pretty sure only a boss monster can absorb all seven o those things. Yer soul might not take it.”   
  


“Well, I guess we'll see.” She looks up at him stubbornly trying to side step him.   
  


“It don't have to be that way.” he blocks her path and puts a massive paw on her shoulder. She seems to sag under it with a tired sigh.   
  


“...what other way is there? Do you think this is enough? You think they can't catch me like this? It ain't enough to change shit!” she snarls, slapping a paw over her chest. He’s not sure whether she’s even talking about the souls anymore.    
  


“But it does change things. Look at these folk, they believe in you. They know yer doing something important.”   
  


“Yeah killing other folk.”   
  


“We do what we gotta do. 'S the way it's always been... It don't have to stay like that though. We fucked up; but we can make things better for em. We can change things.” He puts the plate down and puts both paws on her shoulders, leaning down to catch her eye.    
  


He's dead serious.   
  


“What are ya sayin?” she asks quietly.   
  


“ ‘M sayin we don't really need all those souls. Folk believe in ya and that's more powerful than any human magic.” Tommy's scarred and bulky face cracks a smile, a soft one that gives him a dimple on one side. It's completely goofy and she laughs.    
  


“Ya really think so?”   
  


Before he can reply a tall monster with red quills on his head for hair stumbles in.   
  


“Uh boss, the kid left.”   
  


“Left where? Why didn't ya call?” Tommy growls, turning his head.   
  


“The guys didn't wanna call it in cause he-”   
  


“Wait, what kid are we talking 'bout?” Dahlia cut in.   
  


The lanky monster glances at Tommy as if asking for permission before replying. “ The nurse kid from the hospital we've been following.”   
  


She mutters a couple curses under breath, Tommy puts his paw back on her shoulder and squeezes. It isn't as comforting as he seems to think it is since his paw is almost as big as Dahlia's head.   
  


“What happened?” he asks.    
  


“The extra security stayed in the hospital, but the kid got in a car with Mettaton and left. He got on a plane...we uh, we think they're going to Ebbot.” The young monster finished lamely.   
  


The room was silent for a moment, Dahlia’s shoulders shake a little and Tommy leans down to see her face. Then she throws her head back and laughs, a single harsh bark of a laugh before she turns up to look at Tommy’s face.    
  


“Guess you get your way, fat cat.” she says.   
  


“Heh, I always do. Keep an eye on em, call the guys at the Capital. We’ll handle it.”   
  


“Sure boss.” the red quilled monster makes a confused face before dodging back out the kitchen door.   
  


“So...we got some work to do.” Tommy says to her when the monster’s gone.   
  


“Ya got a plan?” she asks, as if challenging him.   
  


“Always do.”   


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading and damn did this chapter fight me, not writing it, but editing it. I scrapped a lot of what I wrote because though it was a fun scene it wasn't really necessary. I'm probably going to finish the fic then go back and edit the entire thing to be more streamlined. I like giving everyone character development but I also know I need to focus more on the main story. This was the compromise, the side character chapters will be much shorter and will alternate between the Frisk and Sans centered ones. To get the plot going without spending so much time away from the skeles. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay and thank you for hanging in there. I will do my best to keep improving. 
> 
> Til the next one!


	51. Your hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more things change the more they stay the same...Sans and Frisk face some recurring problems but this time trying to make different choices.

  


  
  
Frisk put away their journal, marking the page they left off on. They couldn’t focus on what they were trying to say and sketching at the same time. Now that  they looked over their shoulder at him, it was obvious Sans was avoiding them. He was pacing, definitely more than was necessary to put away the dishes.   
  
  
“I'm not saying anything, I'm just kind of surprised that you haven't found one yet. You're really smart and people usually want you to fix their things. I didn't think you'd have that much trouble getting a job. Is it ‘cause it’s a small town and there aren’t any?”   


“Nah, I'm jus tryin'a find something I can do from home.” he grumbled.  


“Kay’ that explains a lot. Why didn't you go with that guy from the hardware store? He liked you and I know you can fix a lot more than cellphones.”  


“Handlinks.” he corrects, Frisk frowns, they hate it when he makes them beat around the bush.  


“You know what I mean, you're avoiding something. Leaving here?”  They can see the way he pauses and their tone softens. Of course he’s still worried, he’s always worried. “There's...I'm not going anywhere, I promise.”  


“Yeah. I know.”  


“You don't believe me though.”

  
“I do, it's not that. I trust ya...I jus don't wanna not be here if something does happen.” he says stubbornly, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen now that there’s nothing else to put away. Frisk pats the seat beside themselves on the couch and he reluctantly slumps down.   


“Nothing will happen. This house is probably the safest place here. Sans, we literally have lasers in the backyard. What do you think is going to happen?” they ask, trying to reason with him.  


“I dunno, it's stupid. But I don't feel good leaving ya by yourself.”  


They try to catch his eyes but fail, he always gets dodgy about these things, Frisk on their part always tries to face everything head on. So they take his hand in theirs, softly clattering their thumb over his big knuckles. He slowly drags his eyelights over to lock with their own.

 

“But I'm not by myself. Antoine is here, Flowey's pretty much always with me. And Celty! She's been on look out for a whole week! We're doing great and no one can come in here without anyone noticing, **so please**...let's just calm down. We don’t need to keep running.”

 

“I’m trying.” he grumbles.

 

“I know.”   


They sit like that for a while, neither knowing what else to say. Their situation has changed, but the same cannot be said for their habits and fears.   


“What I mean is, if we have to start over anyway we might as well make this better. This is our home now, right?”  


“Shit, yer right. Wait do ya…” he scratches his cheek for a moment, and sweats. “ Do ya **want** to settle down here?” he sounds almost too nervous to hope, it makes Frisk’s soul ache a little.   


“Yeah, I do...don't you?”

  
Sans stares at them for a while, as if looking for something. They smile at him and he smiles back softly, his gold fang catching the light. “...Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

“Then let’s get you a job!”

 

Frisk’s smile turns into that dazzling grin they have when they’re about to work on something they enjoy and they pull him by the hand  into the office. Once there, they work on his resume and look at the few job openings anyone bothered to post in this town. There's so few of them they decide not to bother with the postings and spend the entire morning just sprucing up the paperwork and Sans himself, then they take him out into the town to hand out the resumes.

 

The people of Hede, especially in the outskirts didn’t much care for resumes, but they did care for skill.  They asked to see his work and he delivered, he showed off his engineering skills but one of the shop owners started giving him conversation. By the way the old man laughed Frisk could only guess he had some sort of appreciation for puns, though they couldn’t understand the words.   


Frisk told Sans they’d wait for him at the house when he got himself caught up in fixing the hardware store’s register. By the time Sans got home there were homemade burgers and fries waiting for him.   


“Damn that smells great, thanks.”  


“You’re welcome. I hope it’s good.” they say placing his plate in front of him and sitting down.  


“Bagel?” he looks at them with a raised brow, smiling wider as they give him an embarrassed look.  


“We don’t have buns.” they say, he bursts out laughing.  


“Yer a little late there, k-kid” he manages.   


They sit next to him, nudging him with their shoulder before digging in. He winds down, then makes a muffled exclamation after the first bite.  


“That’s so frigging good...wait is this vegetables?” he narrows his eyes at the bagel burg suspiciously.   


They nod sagely. “Just because we’re eating burgers doesn’t mean we’re going to eat junk food. It’s a chicken burger with spinach.” That just makes him laugh louder.  


After he's done with the burger Sans picks at the remaining fries, swirling them in a pool of ketchup. He gives his middle a casual pat and Frisk is surprised to see his hand land on...something.  


"Sans?"  


"Yeah?"  


"Do you have a belly?"  


He bristles visibly. "What?"  


"No-I mean... What's under there?"  


Flowey sputters around a mouth full of fries then starts cackling. "Yeah Sans, what's under all that fat?"  


"Shaddup, grasshole."  


"That's not what I meant!" Frisk stands up, suddenly flustered.  


" 'S fine, I know you didn't...and it ain't fat!" He growls, much to Flowey's amusement.  


"But how come I...?" They pat their own middle, where their hand sinks all the way to their spine.  


"It's not...it's static. Look." Sans lifts his shirt just enough to show there's nothing there, but when he pulls it down there is a clear outline, as if there's a body under the clothes.  


"But why doesn't Papyrus do that too?"   


"He's got more control. This is excess magic, you're supposed to either use it or dump it...I store it even if I don't mean to."  


"We get it you're OP, now shut up so I can finish my food!" Flowey mutters.  


Frisk settles down and munches on some fruit staring off into space.  


"Ya alright there?" Sans asks.  


"Yeah, I just thought maybe there was something wrong, with you or with me, I dunno. I thought maybe that's why Papyrus kept nagging about the food." They say with a relieved smile.   


"Nah, yer fine. Though for a second there I thought you were gonna put me on a diet."   


"They should, you are kinda fat." Flowey grumbles.  


"Big boned, thanks. ' Sides I'm already on a diet."   


"You are?" Frisk sounds genuinely surprised. Sans tries not to feel offended.  
  
“ ‘S a seafood diet. Every time I see food, I eat it.”   


Flowey groans but Frisk actually snickers this time, Sans counts that as some sort of victory and finishes his food. After some dessert, they save some bagel burgs for the guards and clean up. Flowey had spent the better part of his day play-fighting Celty and on the computer, but somehow claimed to be as tired as they were; so he skips the traditional Friday movie and heads straight to bed. Sans stays up only pausing to look over the couch to watch Frisk carry Flowey back into the their room.

 

When Frisk turns to whisper goodnight instead of joining him, a weird tension coils over his spine, so that instead of his usual pre-sleep puns, they get a muttered goodnight. He didn’t know what the feeling was exactly, but it was something between annoyance and mistrust, though the first might all be Flowey’s fault.

  
  
The next day came and still the feeling hadn’t left him, like a suspicion that sought confirmation he kept tying memories together until they made awful sense together. Maybe he mistrusted Frisk, because he had a soft spot for them, because they’d managed to fool him back in New Orleans.  Or it could be the way they talked to Flowey sometimes, like they both knew something he didn’t. Something in the way they interacted made him feel left out.   
  
Then, just as he walked into the living room, seeing them laughing together it hit him: he was jealous. Jealous that even after everything that happened he wasn't even their best friend, Flowey was.   


Flowey called them his best friend often and they responded in kind, but somehow it had never seemed so obvious until now. He thought they'd stuck together back when they first met just to survive; but seeing how well they understood one another even in these new circumstances, how easily they fit back together left him wondering how did he fit into their life?

 

He and Frisk were good friends, certainly, but was he just like any other friend to them? Like Papyrus, or Mettaton or  Dan? The thought was upsetting in more ways than one. He must've been standing in the living room frozen for a long time because just at that moment Flowey fired a bullet at his head. He sidestepped it out of pure reflex.  


"Tha' hell was that for?" He growls.  


"You were starting to creep me out! Standing there all wide eyed, ya big lummox!"   


Frisk snorted a surprised laugh. "Lummox?"  


"Didn't know I was so scary I could creep out the creeper." He deflected, sitting next to them on the floor.  


"Of course you're scary; you’re a spooky scary skeleton that sends shivers down his spine." Frisk added, pausing their busy typing on their tablet.   


Flowey snorted then they both broke down laughing, Sans chuckles, rolling his eyelights, hands held up as if in defeat.  


"Good timing kid, though I oughta be more than spooky to send shivers down the spineless."  

 

"Do you want to know what it feels like to be spineless, lazybones?" Flowey bares his teeth at him and Sans does the same back.

  
They start flinging quips and snarling until they are in each other's face. Frisk grabs their heads and hits them against each other, they back off looking like scolded children.   


"There, there, you're both pretty, I mean scary." they say, patting their friends’ heads.   


"Ya think so, Frisk?" Flowey gives them an overly innocent look. “Do you think I’m scary?”   


"Oh yeah, super scary. You look all cute and friendly, then bam! Thorns and teeth everywhere! You could be the star in a horror movie. Lure your victims into a false sense of security and all that stuff."   


Flowey smiles evilly, taking it as a compliment.  "Ya hear that, numbskull? Good enough to have my own movie."   


"Psh, yeah like a botany documentary, petal face. ‘When plants grow bad.’ "   


"Oh, don't be jealous, you're scary too, Sans!" Frisk throws an arm over his shoulders and brings him in close. How that was supposed to make him feel scarier he wasn't sure, but it sure made him sweat nervously.  


"Yeah?"  


"Yeah! You're more cool than scary but you can be really scary when you want to. Your eyes get all dark, like not regular skull dark, like black hole dark! Your voice gets really low and then your magic is like pshoom! You have fire coming out your eye, how is that not cool?!" They gush and he blushes helplessly.  


Before he would've been nervous that they thought him frightening, but they way they said it, as if it were something to be proud of, makes a spark of pleasure flit around inside his ribs.   


"But I'm scarier, right Frisk?" Flowey stretches his mouth into a toothy and ragged maw, Frisk doesn't even flinch, patting his head affectionately.  


"You're both just as scary, in different ways, but just as scary." They wrap their free arm around the flower, bringing his face close to theirs and give him a kiss on the top of his head.   


Flowey's face melts into a sweet expression and he nuzzles their neck happily. Sans watches them apprehensively then Frisk turns to him. They are smiling and closing in slower as if they thought he might bolt, which he might. He blinks fast, their face like snapshots getting closer until their mouth taps his cheekbone with a small zap of magic.

 

He's not sure why the gesture makes him fidgety, but at least the tension of jealousy unwinds from his spine. They aren't really scared of him, they don't mind being this close to him, they care about him. They are here and for the first time he realizes he’s here too, living this moment with them as it comes; and that really is something else.  
  


  


 

 

  
That night, as if to compensate for the last, the three of them stay up way too late. They catch up on this comedy superhero series they’d started, play video games and eat way too much junk. Flowey is the first to go, he’s used to napping at different points in the day but lately has spent so much time online and with Frisk he eventually passes out somewhere after ten without any prompting.

 

Frisk takes Flowey upstairs but by the time they get him out of the drone and onto the window sill Sans has fallen asleep on the couch. They don’t even wake him, instead throw a blanket over him and head to bed themselves. One second they’re laying in bed mulling over what their essay for next week will be about and the next they are standing somewhere entirely different.

 

Different but familiar.  

 

It's a field of flowers, small yellow things that sway in the wind. They kneel, looking around with a creeping sensation of being watched as they gather the blooms and stuff them inside their shirt. The more flowers they have the better they feel, energized even, like the plants are all they needed to survive.

 

They are, aren’t they?   


There is a sense of urgency, like if they don’t do this now they'll have no other chance, or as if there would be consequences if they get caught. They feel someone approach behind them and they turn to see him, though his teeth are sharp and his eyes are red, his smile is comforting.

 

They feel safer though the sense of urgency never leaves them.   


He kneels beside them and helps them, gathering flowers on his lap, seemingly unaffected by their nerves. Seeing him so calm makes them feel a little silly for being so nervous. The two of them talk about meaningless things for a long time. Then he lifts the flowers off his lap, woven into a crown and puts it on their head. The gesture makes them happy.  
  
Then something changes.   


He grabs their hand and pulls them to their feet. The two of them start running fast, they don't know what's after them but they know they can't stop. He pulls them through the field of flowers and into a town, cutting through alleyways and backstreets. They are panicking. He stops so suddenly that they crash against him. He turns around and his eyes are black, blacker than anything and the darkness pours out from his sockets like ink.  


"Who are you?" He asks, his familiar voice cracked with sadness.  


They try to say their name but the words don't come out.   


"I'm...your friend". They say instead, because it's all they can remember but they know in their heart it is true.   


He doesn't stop crying, they might be crying too, warm tears are pouring down their face and they reach out a hand to wipe them away, but their bones come out red. They wipe at the liquid, smearing it on their palms.

 

Blood not tears.  


They reach up and feel the crown on their head, hard and sharp like thorns. It's stuck on their skull, digging in painfully. They don't want to pull it off and do more damage but they can't keep it on so they stick their thin fingers between the crown and their skull and tug it off with an awful scraping sound. The crown is made of vines, vivid green with long red thorns that drip on their hands.

 

They feel betrayed.   


Their friend then wails in pain, falls to his knees. They drop the crown and take his hand instead. They remember they are running and pull him up to keep going. They run aimlessly through the alleys and out of town into a field of snow. It’s the same field from before, but the flowers here are almost all dead, frozen under the white.   


They turn, whatever is chasing them is almost upon them. They get ready to fight, to do what they can, they don't want their friend getting hurt. They extend a hand and raise a shield, a cage of bones that spins a wide circle around them. The faster it spins the stronger they feel, but their friend's wails get louder.   


They turn and see him looking up at them, eyes still black and dripping. He doesn't look hurt, he looks scared...of them. They look down and realize the flowers they'd gathered inside their ribs are growing, spreading as they put more energy into the shield. They thought those were meant to disappear when they used their powers. The fact they spread doesn't scare them, in fact they feel safer now that they can see the flowers inside them are still alive at least. As long as they are still alive they can fight, they can protect him.

 

They open their mouth to reassure him but he cuts them off.   


"Who are you?"   


“I’m…” They try to remember, try to keep the shield up, try to think of what to say.   


He growls, his shadow spills over the snow. His claws are bright red, like the crown in his hands. Red like the fire in his eye, red like the the eyes of the human standing behind him shaking their head with disappointment.   


Red like the tears running down their face when they realize he can't hear them, no matter how much they scream.

 

Because they had forgotten their own name.  
  
  
  
  
It had been a while since they'd last had a nightmare and though the tears have stopped, the terrified feeling lingers, like a centipede crawling over their bones. Frisk keeps shuffling on the bed, trying to sit still but their soul is aching and the flower in their eye is thrilling with magic so that they can't ignore the sporadic flashes of light it makes in their ribcage. The sight of the green human soul next to them offers no comfort. It's a reminder that they have to be strong, too much has been lost already and it's up to them to make it right.

  
They have to overcome this, not be overcome.   


The sound of a soft knock makes them jump, they wait for a moment but he doesn't leave. They can see his soul, red and blue flashing harsh and fast with worry. The feelings police is here, they think bitterly. The green soul glows harder when they focus on him as if it wants to drain away the edge of worry from his soul, it makes Frisk uneasy. They hold Zunzee's gris gris in their hand like an amulet, the faint calming wave of his magic makes their own soul feel a bit lighter.  


"Come in." They say, so quiet they think he might not hear them. He either does or decided to come in anyway because the door opens right away.  


"...hey kid, uh, Frisk." He corrects.  


They don't say anything, turning slightly to acknowledge him and share a look. He doesn't look at them with pity at least, instead he has a worried frown. The fact his feelings are plainly traced on his face is more comfort than anything. At that second it means that if he’s not lying they don’t have to either.  
  
  
He sits on their bed, eyes roaming their face. "Are ya alright?"   


They nod, sitting up slowly, their spine making one last rattle. "I'm-yeah. I'm ok."  


They don't say anything else after that, Sans starts to fidget with the quilt, mouth tight with discomfort. "You uh, hadn't had one in a while, huh?"  


"Yeah. It...it was different from the other ones."   


"How?"   


"It didn't feel like a memory but like a mix of stuff. It wasn't like-I don't know why..." They notice their hands are still shaking and put them on their lap, cushioned between the blankets so they stop rattling.  


Sans hesitates then carefully puts a hand on their shoulder as if to initiate a hug, only this time they don't complete the gesture, they're stiff, their eyes distant. He gulps down his nerves and shuffles closer, slowly wrapping his arms around them, giving them plenty of chance to back off. Instead they lean into it limply, melting into the embrace, so close he can feel their soul thumping behind their ribcage. The sensation reverberates in his bones, fluttering fast and frightened despite their stillness. He smooths a hand over their back like he used to, easing the rattling of their bones.  


"It was just a dream. Don't mean anything." He keeps murmuring comforting nothings while the  last of their tears slip out of their sockets.  


They let the green soul's tugging insistence lead them, remembering the release Zunzee offered them before. Like blood letting to remedy swelling,they let their feelings slip out unchecked for a moment to ease the pressure. It helps, even if they are not nearly as skilled as Zunzee at this; then again they're not actually sure if it’s the magic or the fact Sans is holding them that makes it so easy to let everything out.  


Eventually the trembling stops but they linger for a while, ribs still as if they'd forgotten how to breathe. Sans' thinks back and lately they don’t move like they’re breathing anymore, it makes him sad for some reason. Still he runs his hands over their skull like he used to do for Papyrus when he was crying, both to comfort them and himself. After a while Frisk pulls away, they wipe their sockets with a careless gesture and give him a small smile.  


"Thanks...for always being here."  


"Yer welcome." This time he doesn't feel awkward saying it, he sounds firm. Like he wants to make it clear it's an open invitation.  


They smile wider and take his hand in both of theirs. Sans' magic zaps them hard, hard enough to make an audible sound. They'd startled him, yet they didn't seem startled at all as they ran their thumb over his knuckles.   


"I was scared that something was changing. That I was changing and that if I changed too much from the Frisk you remembered you'd...leave or worse. You'd like, be disappointed in me or something. But I'm glad you're still here, I'm glad that hasn't changed. If anything it's the one thing I don't want to change."  


"It won't." The fervor in his voice surprises them both.   


He hated that they would think he'd abandon them, it was so far from the truth he wondered where they even got it from. It worried him to realize that sometimes they sounded as if they didn’t think they would ever be good enough. He had no idea where they got that idea from, even worse, their underlying doubts sounded familiar. It rang like something he would say and that fact deeply disturbed him. He wondered if this it what it felt like when they were dealing with him.   


"I'm glad." Was all they said back, but in their voice they held an equally fervent conviction and that was enough to make him smile back, hands still caught in theirs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, probably most people reading this thought I died or something. Nah, I kept writing but I didn't keep publishing. The story is almost completely written out already but I keep fixing things about it and don't publish the damn thing. I'm sorry about that but i want to thank everyone who's sticking by it and still reading. I really appreciate it, as well as the comments and constructive criticism I've gotten. Thank you for your patience and for taking the time to read. I really appreciate it!


	52. Just enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hosts and Dr. Alphys get together with a group of Mages to finally find a way to completely undo the barrier and maybe free the hosts souls. But they're not entirely sure they all agree on what the right way to do this is...

  
  


Alphys readjusts her glasses for what must be the hundredth time, being anxious always made her sweaty. With some downtime from the host research she is able to go back to her initial project of analyzing Frisk's flowers. She has her handlink open, with all her notes projected before her in a clutter of text boxes. Before she can do anything she needs to sort these until they start to make sense. She starts by skimming the notes about Frisk's flowers and putting them all in one file, correcting them to sound like actual observations rather than rambling.  


_Entry# 5:_ _The buttercups relate to  Frisk’s magic. At the moment it is unclear how they became like this._ _  
_   


_Entry#11:_ _Flowey claims the buttercups appeared on Frisk’s body after a ‘death’. Time magic was involved causing the flowers to spread. The natural toxins in the plants were likely the cause of death._ _  
_

_Entry#24:_ _The buttercups behave similar to a symbiote. Like echo flowers they do photosynthesis using magic vapours from monsters to substitute the sun's radiation. Unlike echo flowers they can also absorb human magic._   


Alphys shifts the projections so that the corrected notes are all on one end, leaving space to open the biggest folder: her notes on Dr. Gaster’s journal.   


_Entry#30:_ _Dr. Gaster crossbred common buttercups with echo flowers and parsnik magic  for aprox. 40 years. He named the result underblooms._ _  
_

_Entry#70:_ _There are three main samples of underblooms: from Gaster’s labs (sample L),  from the Angel’s Grave (sample G) and from Frisk’s body (sample F)._ _  
_

_Entry#34:_ _Sample L colonies were kept isolated. In the experiments recorded, each group was irradiated with a different type of magic._ _  
_

_Entry#35:_ _Results appear inconclusive, different types of magic make no significant difference in Sample L’s growth._ _  
_

_Entry#38:_ _Experiments on Sample L with human magic are mentioned but the results are inaccessible. The purpose of the experiments is still unclear._   


Alphys' handlink keeps beeping persistently so she pauses to text Mettaton back; he doesn’t seem to understand she doesn’t have time for his nonsense. He keeps insisting she guess who’s coming over and she frankly can’t keep the conversation going. She tells him to call when he arrives and blocks any further messages.  


She needs to focus!   


_Entry#44:_ _Sample G and Sample F grow more aggressively than Sample L.  Underblooms’ magic absorption capacity increases in proportion to the amount of blooms growing together._ _  
_

_Entry#45:_ _Footage shows that underblooms multiply when their host engages in a Fight or is stressed; namely states of high magic production._ _  
_

_Entry#51:_ _Flowey was kept alongside Sample L cultures but was not irradiated, only interviewed. Flowey was not born in the lab and his origin is unknown at the moment._ _  
_

_Entry#54:_ _New footage shows Frisk can sprout/spread underblooms through basic bullet attacks._ _  
_

_Entry#60:_ _Flowey’s current form is confirmed to be the result of monster remains and human determination._ _  
_

_Entry#63:_ _Though it seems Frisk’s bullet attacks could enable the plants to change hosts, so far Sample F has not been passed to anyone else. It’s possible underblooms only attach to hosts that have human magic._ _  
_

_Entry#72:_ _The purpose of the underbloom experiments remains unclear, as they are unrelated to other barrier-focused experiments in the journal._   


_Entry#74:_ _Confirmed that Underblooms will not transfer to other human soul hosts or humans when prompted._   


Alphys plops down on the desk with a shaky sigh. Finally, the most important entries are in some sort of order, but they still don’t answer her questions. She turns to reach for her snacks and her claws bump against something cold. There is a big cup of bubble tea on her desk next to some matcha cookies.  Undyne must have brought it in, yet she hadn’t even heard anyone come in.  


Flowey was right, she needs to take a break.   


Alphys hates to leave questions unanswered, but more than that she hates thinking she would work herself into a breakdown like she used to. She makes an effort to turn away from the screen, take off her glasses and give her eyes some rest. But even with her eyes closed her mind still races, the fact she still can’t understand Frisk’s condition and powers is really disturbing. If she only knew why the flowers were made she could figure out the rest, but she can’t even begin to see what Dr. Gaster trying to do with them!   
  


There’s only one other monster who could possibly know what Dr.Gaster had been thinking. She closes the projector and makes her way out dialing Sans’ new number.　  


“Ya don’t wanna do that thing, trust me.”   


Alphys screams dropping her handlink and fumbling not to do the same with her tea. Ika is standing in the doorway, casually chewing on a bean bun.  


“Y-you startled me, Ikababa!” She takes a sip of the tea to calm herself down. “What were you saying?”  


“I says, don’t call the skeleton man. Now is not good time.”  


The doctor resists the urge to roll her eyes. As amusing as the whole idea of a fortune teller is, she knows nobody can really read the future. The Cyan host ability is based on probability and Ika’s own journey here was proof that individual choices could turn even the best predictions on their head.    


“You haven’t read my fortune yet. I just need to ask him something. He said to call if I needed to.” she says walking away. Ika blocks her, eating the rest of the bun in one bite.  


“True, true. But I read theirs.” that makes Alphys pause. “The skeleton man and the sweetie. They need to hear what you have to say, but you haven’t figured it out yet.”  


“I-I know; that’s why I wanted to call him…” she mumbles.  


“He can’t find out until you know. When you find out...you’ll understand.” Ika takes Alphys’ free hand in one of her tentacles, giving the doctor the most serious look she has very seen on the old monster's face. An idea comes to Alphy’s mind suddenly.  


"Do you know how the flowers work?! W-why they’re on Frisk?"   


"I can't see details or words, no. But I saw you talking to Frisk about its. It will hurt a lot, a lot. You need to be sure before you tell them. Sure, sure." She emphasizes, patting Alphys' hand firmly with another of her tentacles. The fact there are tears shining in her heavy lidded eyes, and that she's being unusually direct makes Alphys hesitate. She’d been having a bad feeling about this for a while, this only made her hesitation worse.   


“F-fine, you win. I won’t call Sans...not yet.”  


Ika nods in approval. Alphys sighs and walks past her only to get a playful smack on her tail.   


“Call your sassy robot friend instead, he has good news!”  


Alphys narrows her eyes at her and rubs her tail; coming to terms with the fact she probably won’t ever understand this crazy old lady.  
  
  
  
  


  
If hell was a real place it would be a train compartment, inescapable and empty save for a loudmouthed, flamboyant robot talking non-stop about his husband. Lupan nods numbly, trying to escape the onslaught of wedding photos, anecdotes and songs. With how busy they'd both been just packing he knew Mettaton had to run out of battery at some point, he just hopes that point came soon. He throws a begging look at the butler as the monster came down the compartment, Jacques is his only hope.   


“Mettaton, Mr. Dufae we will be arriving shortly. Your belongings are being unloaded into the laboratories and the entourage is waiting for us at the station. Do you want anything else before we stop?”  


Lupan stares at him, trying to convey his desperation despite the ever-present cowl covering half his face.   


“Oh we’re doing great, Jackie darling. I’ve been catching Lupan up on some of my favorite memories! Do you remember the honeymoon?”   


“Which one, Mettaton, sir?”   


“Oh they were all fabulous, as you know. But I started in chronological order, so I wouldn’t confuse him.”  
The butler seems to ignore Lupan but as Mettaton goes on another tirade, he  hears Jaques' voice loudly in his mind.   
  
****

**_When I tell you to, run to the other car._ **   


“Is that really the best way? Didn’t you organize them by level of enjoyment and setting? Maybe we could think of a shorter and more appealing approach for our guest. He doesn’t have a lot of time.”   


“Shoot, you’re right. He won’t have time to watch the five movies. Do you think I could make an edited version? Like a compilation? Oh my stars, a musical compilation! OH YES!~ It will be like a movie musical! All twelve honeymoons, all the highlights, with a few new dance sequences. Maybe some metaphors for all the kinky bits since he’s still a minor and then-”  
  
****

**_Go,go,go!_ **   


Lupan slips out behind Jaques while Mettaton gets caught up in editing the video compilation. Lupan gets to breathe a few moments of peace before they get ready to take the boat to Hotland. He prays Mettaton weighs enough to get his own boat. For a moment at the hospital he thought the robot was bearable, that is until he agreed to see Papyrus' photos. If he could read the tincan’s mind this wouldn’t even have happened. Maybe this was fate punishing him, for thinking he could solve everything with this power.   
  
  
  
  


 

"So, you're almost here? It's getting late..." Alphys says, trying not to sound too worried.   


 

"Oh yes, honey we'll be there in a few. Just a little delayed since you know I had to get my own boat, not enough space and all that."  


Alphys snickered ungracefully, even after all this time he is still self conscious about his weight.  


"Argyle is getting here tomorrow with the, um, mages? I still don't know if that's how they like being called-"  


"That's wonderful, I can help you set something up for them tomorrow morning. We can leave the introductions for tomorrow, these guys are having trouble keeping up with me right now... Oh, and my little bundle of joy is here too! You're gonna love him, he's just so cute and tsundere!"  


Alphys laughed nervously, she'd never had this many people in her lab and again she was glad Mettaton had helped her clean the basement all those years ago. Now it was hard to see the same dark stains in its bright pastel walls; the jars of animal and human samples had been replaced with plants and shiny prosthetic prototypes. The memories of all the terrible secrets were being replaced with research she actually enjoyed, the kind that helped others rather than seeing them as a means to an end.

 

Letting her friends into it had been the last step, a metaphor for letting them into everything else about her life. Strangely enough in the past months the lab had become the assembly room for all their hopes and dreams. At least Alphys was glad to know it would be filled with folks she could call her friends.  
  
  
  
  
The next morning the lab is bustling with activity, Alphys and her drones are still setting up appetizers, Undyne is moving the machinery and furniture around to accommodate their guests while said guests are getting ready upstairs. For a moment the doctor stands frozen between the kitchen and dining room, she had never hosted for this many people; never since the barrier existed had so many relied on her success.

 

She hoped that together, they could make it right.

 

As if she could sense her apprehension, Undyne veers to her, a pile of chairs still in her arms. “Chill babe, it’s gonna be great!” Undyne kisses her cheek and continues to the dining room.  


Before Alphys could react the lab doors swished open and a familiar tune boomed into the room. She didn't have to hear the click of heels or the airy laugh to know who she'd find standing there. After the traditional dance number was done Mettaton picked her up and spun her around, positively gushing. Behind him, the head butler and a small monster she could only assume was the host, trudged in. No sooner had she shaken Lupan's hand, that Alphys saw Argyle leading the apprentices down stairs behind him.  


"Oh, there you are, mister!" Mettaton bends slightly, placing a kiss on each of Argyle's cheeks, leaving the mage a little starry eyed.  


"Pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Mettaton. I must say the handlink doesn't do you justice." Mettaton flutters his lashes, taking the compliment with gusto. "Let me introduce my comrades, they will be working on the research with me. This is Selwyn, she's doing most of the formula and circle design, the technical aspect of things."  


The girl beside him looks about college age, with a short bob, dark skin and a single beaded dreadlock on the side of her face. Mettaton takes her hand graciously but abstains from kissing it when he locks eyes with her. Her expression is hard and unreadable, it kind of reminds him of Lupan so he knows its better to let her have her space.  


"She takes her profession very seriously as you can see; and this is Horacio, he's our caster. He's a little shy, mind you but I've never met a mage with so much casting capacity. You'll see." Argyle gives the young man a hearty clap on the back, making him step forward hesitantly.   


"Oh, so you're a power house, then?" The robot purrs.  


"Yes, sir." The young man lowers his head, tucking a loose lock from his ponytail behind his ear.  


"Oh you're so polite. But you can call me Mettaton, darling, we're all friends here."  


Horacio smiles shyly, making himself look smaller despite being as tall and broad-shouldered as Undyne. After the introductions are made and food is served, Ika sits next to Lupan who seems oddly comforted by her, Mettaton chats with Argyle and the two apprentices stay quiet next to Alphys and Undyne.

 

Nobody even mentions what they are really here for, not yet.  


"So, what about you punks, what can you do?" Undyne asks the humans across from her. Horacio seems to be caught off guard and merely gapes at her.  


"You mean magic?" Selwyn asks bluntly.  


“Pretty much, yeah.”   


“I make circles. I set up the bases for other people to activate. I also, er, I infuse tools and stuff like that.” Selwyn finished, turning quiet when she notices how attentively the monsters are looking at her.  


“So what can the objects do, after you put magic in them?” Lupan asks suddenly.  


“Depends on the object, if its a wand I could make it easier for it to conduct magic. Human magic, it's not like your magic that can make things. It’s more like human magic changes how an object affects the real world.”  


“It can influence the things around it but not affect it directly? I think I understand what you mean.” he mutters, becoming thoughtfully quiet.  


“Huh. I dunno, your magic seemed pretty direct to me, old man.” Undyne chuckles at Argyle.  


“Yeah, but that's because he knows so much. Human magic can affect the environment but not directly from the p-person using it. The circles are like conduits in a circuit, she can make conduits out of things and if you use them in a certain way then they can affect the environment. Like the bases for the barrier or that thing Argyle set up on the pan to m-make it heat up by itself. Once a circle’s made it can keep going, even when the person who cast it isn’t there.”  
  
  
“I am glad you remember so much, doctor. She is very good at understanding our magic, and in so little time too.”  Argyle tells his the apprentices, effectively reducing Alphys to a stuttering and blushing mess.   


Despite the underlying apprehension Mettaton and Undyne quickly kick up the conversation until everyone joins in. There is no point in rushing into any unpleasantness, they had the entirety of the next few months to do that. The dinner ends pretty quick and soon everyone is heading back to their rooms, to get settled, rest and prepare for tomorrow.  A little too soon, that next morning to be exact, when Mettaton debriefs everyone the team is faced with their first major obstacle.   


"What do you mean, no?" Mettaton doesn't even bother pouting.  


"What I said. That is not what I came here to do. I came here to help you stop her, not to give you my powers." Lupan scowls at him openly while the others sit in silence.  


"Ok punk, let me make this clear for you. Yer a host so you're in this whether you like it or not. So you better make up your mind ‘cause you're either with us or against us." Undyne almost snarls.  


"I do want to help, that's why I'm here, but that's also why I'm keeping my power. I can help others with it. It's what I've been doing since I became a host and it is what I'll keep doing once this is over." He retorts.  


"But darling, you know just having that makes you a target; and you don't need powers to-" Mettaton sits next to Lupan using a soft voice.  


"No, don't you sugar coat this, robot. Look at me punk!" Undyne stands up, her eye crackling with magic. Lupan stares at her completely unfazed. Despite the buzz of thoughts around him, hers were loud enough to cover everything else. They also matched her words so that they echoed in tandem with her voice.

 

It was screaming fish woman in full stereo.  


"That power makes you a target, you can't help anyone without making them a target too and when ya Fall that soul is gonna stay behind and get passed around to other folk that might not be that _helpful_ . You understand?!" She stares at him, waiting.  The young monster just sighs and resumes scowling.   


"I understand. But while I have it I'm going to make sure I put it to good use."    


Undyne growls low and Mettaton sweeps in between her and Lupan to distract her. The last thing they want is a brawl in the living room. The mages remain quiet but visibly tense, as they didn't feel comfortable forcing Lupan to help them; yet they also know they can’t let him walk around with a human soul and strange powers.   


"You can wait little nurse!" Ika cuts in, Lupan turns to her. "We don't know how to free the souls yet, could take some time, yeah? You can stay and help and wait! Then when we’re done you decide!"  


"Did your fortunes tell you that?" He asks thoughtfully as she grabs his hand.  


"Nope! We should help, cause its the right thing to do. Don't need fortunes to know that." She smiles simply and after a long moment he sighs.  


"I guess I could wait."  


The group breathes a sigh of relief. However tentative his response, for the moment all of their hosts were on board for the mission. After some experiments on Lupan's host powers, they would work on the barrier's formula and begin the arduous process of unlocking it properly. Once they able to replicate that magic on a small scale, they would finally be able to undo the terrible wrong that was done to them all those centuries ago and hopefully keep the same mistakes from being made somewhere in the future.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as you can see I'm sticking to the separate format: chapters about Sans and Frisk, or chapters about everyone else. Soon enough we'll hopefully get everyone together again, but for now enjoy the well split up chaps! Thanks for reading and supporting me on this super long story!


	53. Somewhere to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to change for Sans and Frisk as they are forced to recognize their situation has changed. Problem is, they don't know if the change will pull them closer or farther apart...

  
  


  
The tell tale burst of magic on their periphery tells Frisk Sans is here, he's still too lazy to walk back home but at least now he uses the front door. They’d all found out the hard way: it's never any fun to have someone teleport next to you without warning.   
  


"How was work today?" they ask.   
  


"Good, pretty good." He has a lazy grin on as he puts down his tool bag and shrugs off his favorite coat.   
  


"What'd you fix?" They ask while they put down a plate of bagel burgs and sweet potato fries in front of him.   
  


"Heh, a few handlinks, some ports, installed some wiring on an old lady's house and uh, like doing maintenance on stuff."    
  


His grin gets a little wider and Frisk smiles back. Sans seems so different lately, more at ease. Whenever he's had his hands busy fixing something somehow his eye sockets don't look as hollow anymore, his soul shines just that much brighter. Frisk is glad he’s finally happy here.   
  


"Aren't you gonna eat?" He asks.   
  


"Yeah. You got a lil something  there." They tell him, pointing at the corner of their mouth. He swipes at his mouth spreading the ketchup. Frisk sits next to him and casually wipes his cheek before digging into their food.   
  


"How are the guys doin’?" Sans asks, mouth full.   
  


"Oh, they're doing good. We're finally starting to get used to the time difference."   
  


"No more 2am texts?"   
  


They laugh and shake their head, then go quiet. Sans glances at them, catching the kind of worried frown that usually means they're about to say something he won't like. Right on cue they start asking something.

 

"Hey, I'm almost done with the courses and I was thinking..."   
  


"Yeah?"   
  


As if they can hear the apprehension in his voice they turn to him and just say it. 

 

"I wanna get a job, Sans."   
  


"...what about yer classes?"   
  


"I've been taking extras. As soon as I take the SAT replacement I'm done. There's a college in the next city so... after the Dahlia thing is over I can get my degree. But til that’s done, I want to work."    
  


Frisk sounds pretty sure of themselves, they do that a lot lately yet it still throws him for a loop everytime.   
  


"Ya know ya don't need to." He grumbles.   
  


"You know we already had this conversation, back in Jackson."    
  


"Things were different then."   
  


"Yeah, they were more dangerous. We didn't even know something was going on, we were in the middle of everything and we didn’t even know. We didn’t trust each other as much as we do now." Frisk searches his eyes with their own. 

 

He holds their gaze, even though it shakes him. 

 

"...it's still dangerous." He says as firmly as he can.   
  


"How?"   
  


"Wha?"   
  


"How is it dangerous here?”

 

“There’s- I mean...This isn’t-” he scrambles to give them a good reason.

 

“No, seriously. Tell me. What am I running away from now?!" They say, voice raising sharply.   
  


"I-yer... Fuck!"   
  


Sans clenches his fist, making his claws scrape loudly against his palm. He's at a loss for a moment but the frustration starts to slip out of him with the swearing. Once that gap in his facade cracks open he can't stop. He grabs their shoulder and looks right at them.   
  


"Yer a host, Frisk. Someone with power that other folk could steal...but you're also an exception. Ya weren't born a monster. None of us even know where you even came from!"    
  


"You know exactly where I came from." They're shaking but their voice is firm and Sans can't help but feel even more frustrated. How can they stay so... strong?

 

Why couldn’t they just let him...keep them safe?   
  


"But I don't even know how this ‘appened... I don't even know how long you’ll be here when every fucking time I turn around there's someone tryin’ to take ya away!"    
  


Sans didn't notice when he got up, or that his claws were crackling with fire. He hadn't realized his hand was burning them, but they didn't even flinch. Still, traitorous as always the flower in their socket was dripping a thin line of gold down their cheek.   
  


"Frisk, I-I'm-"    
  


They grab his hand, his fire dies at the contact. Their magic is seeping into his fingers, steady and sincere. Healing magic.   
  


"Even more reason...to let me live my life. However long it is, I want to be sure it's mine."   
  


"I'm sorry. That's not somethin’ I wanted to say to ya like that." he whispers, his voice raw.    
  


Sans reaches out with his other hand but doesn't dare touch them. Frisk leans closer, letting his hand cup their cheekbone. He runs his fingers gently over the tears there, letting them fade.   
  


"What’s with the racket!? Do I need to go down there?!"   
  


Flowey's voice from upstairs makes them both start and Frisk gives a small laugh before shouting back.   
  


"We're fine, just bickering."   
  


"Kick his ass, Frisk!"   
  


"I did... actually I think we both kicked each other's ass this time. We're fine though."   
  


Flowey grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like more threats, but doesn't come downstairs; they wait for a few awkward seconds in silence. As usual it is Frisk that breaks it, with their quiet but firm voice.

 

"I know you didn't mean it and I'm sorry for yelling. Sorry I don't understand sometimes, I know you care about me and that you're trying to help." They shuffle closer and wrap their arms around him. Sans’ magic is still buzzing inside his ribs but he returns the hug, leaning his head back to put his chin on their shoulder. There is no denying they are slightly taller than him now, how embarrassing.   
  


"It's fine ya just, uh, caught me off guard. You ok?" he grumbles.   
  
  


“Yeah. You surprised me too. You didn’t use to be so...upfront about it.”   
  


" ‘Bout what?”   
  


"Not wanting me to leave, being paranoid. You used to try to hide it."   
  


Sans chuckles. "Well we didn't use ta fight, either."   
  


"It wasn't-okay it was a bit of a fight...but honestly I'd rather bicker if it means I get to know you."   
  


"What's that supposed ta mean?" He pulls back, disconcerted by how calm they look.   
  


"It means I know you better now... I know part of the reason I felt like I didn't know you is cause I don't remember everything from before. But since we moved here it feels like I'm finally getting to know you, like for real this time."   
  


"Ouch."   
  


"Sorry, I'm not saying it to be mean it's just..."   
  


" 'S how it feels, I get it...ya don't gotta apologize, yer right. I was making an ass outta myself tryin to protect ya. Wasn't being honest."   
  


Frisk pulls him back into their arms hard and he feels the thrum of their soul, vividly against his ribs. It's a strong and reassuring feeling.   
  
"You're here now...and I'm glad you're here." They say and squeeze him harder, almost like they're trying to give him a Papyrus-style hug.   
  


"Is this okay?"    
  


They ask gently, like they can sense his trepidation, rubbing their skull against his as if to make sure he's really there. The gesture doesn't help his nerves, in fact it makes them worse, his soul is stuttering wildly inside his ribs. Sans tries not to shudder with nerves but his voice is still shaky when he replies.   
  


"Uh y-yeah, why’s it not okay?"   
  


"I dunno...I guess 'cause we just argued or 'cause you're like nervous or something. I don't know if you're comfortable with it."   
  


"Course I'm ok with it." He replies a little too fast.   
  


"I know you are but, I mean, do you want to?" They hold his gaze and his throat makes a funny sound as he gulps.   
  


" 'Course I do."   
  


"Then...how come you never hug me first?"   
  


This conversation is going sideways fast, Sans doesn't know if he can keep up.    
  


"Wha? I do, I do hug ya first. I mean what about the other night I-I did..hug ya."    
  


"The other night I had a nightmare. You always hug me when I have those, I meant besides that. Not when something's wrong but when you feel like it. You know? Hugging just because."   
  


"Uhh, I'm pretty sure I have." Sans lies.   
  


"I'm pretty sure you haven't." Frisk teases, watching his cheeks darken more and more.   
  


They got him cornered and he knows it. 

 

"Shit... It's not that I don't wanna. It ain't like that."    
  


"Then what is it? Everyone else hugs me whenever they feel like but you...you always wait until I hug you first." The teasing glint fades from their eye suddenly, they're being earnest and somehow that's more nerve-wracking than the teasing.   
  


"Those guys weren't always like that." He mumbles.   
  


"But they changed, didn't they? So, why haven't you?"   
  


Sans really hopes this conversation is strictly about hugging, because that question is loaded and this is but one can of worms in a shelf-full he'd rather not open.   
  


"I'm not like them... sides I can't just hug ya whenever, its-"   
  


"That's what I'm trying to say. You can." They grip his shoulders and tilt their head down forcing him to hold eye contact.  "Heck, I want you to hug me whenever you want. You're...you're my best friend. Why wouldn't I want you close to me?"    
  


They sound almost surprised at themselves for saying that and Sans feels a surge of affection for them, sharp and sweet in his soul. But instead what comes out of his mouth is:   
  


"Thought Flowey was yer best friend."   
  


"You both are, numbskull! I love you both!" They smack him gently upside the head like they do whenever he says a particularly self deprecating joke. Sans rubs his skull feeling as if he’d just been thoroughly scolded, which in a way he was.   
  


"C-can I hug you now?" He blurts out, feeling the distinct sting of tears in his sockets.

  
"Yes, you numbskull!" Frisk spreads their arms wide, waiting.    
  


It feels like they're so far away at first, but slowly he takes a step and even slower he wraps his arms around them. The gesture is awkward and stiff from his part but as they relax into the embrace he finally relaxes as well. Sans sighs and it's almost like a piece of his fear melts away leaving him  lighter, so he holds on tighter to remind himself of where he is. This is real and it isn't something that could fall away so easily. This is here and now, and it is the most wonderful thing he's had in a very long time.   
  
  


" I'll help...do ya want me to help?" He asks quietly.   
  


"With-oh...of course you can help me."   
  


"Thanks. For the pun and everythin else."

 

“What pun?” 

 

There’s a smile in their voice and it reflects on him, he gives a low, contented chuckle. 

 

“Never mind.”   
  


 

  
  
Sans doesn't say much else until the next morning, and when he does it's with that same lazy sort of happiness that's been growing as the days pass by. The town of Hede, with it's quiet houses, the wide open fields and the warm house to come back to, had been slowly wearing down their worries. Only now Sans letting those worries be worn away.   
  


They wander around the town, much like they had in the weeks before for Sans's job. It doesn't take long for Frisk to choose their intended targets: the small bookstore at the end of town and the flower shop. The bookstore has very little staff and the old monster that owns it doesn't seem to want to let anyone help. But if Sans knows anything is that when Frisk wants something, they are very...hard to say no to. In the end the monster gives them his word he'd call anytime he needed help, a part time position and their first success.   
  


The flower shop is a different story, the lady is as smiley as the first time she saw them, though Sans wasn't sure if that was her usual disposition or just a side effect from having a flower-covered monster inside her shop. She was so excited when Frisk showed her they could actually produce flowers that Sans thought she might have a heart attack. It didn't take much to get Frisk a job here, but it would take a long time to learn how to handle the other plants in their care.   
  


On their way home that evening Sans stops at the bakery to get Frisk some cheesecake. The skeletons and Celty sit and chat while they munch on their desserts. They notice she seems keen on giving them some space; apparently Flowey wasn't the only one who overheard their bickering. Just as they make their way out Frisk gets a call from Flowey, he sounds a little frantic and it makes them uneasy.   
  


"I don't understand what you're saying. Do you want to video call?" They ask in a low voice.   
  


"No, just listen. Have either of you seen the news yet?"   
  


"What news?" They glance at Sans who shrugs.   
  


"The Boss and Antoine messaged me while ago. I think it is better if we wait until we are home to talk." Celty interrupts, her tone leaves no room to argue.   
  


Sans frowns but doesn't seem to be in a hurry as he takes both their hands and leads them outside, then as the world goes dark for a moment they realize he'd planned on shortcutting them home all along.   
  


"Wha the-?!" he starts.    
  


Sans barely manages to push Frisk and get himself out of the way before a barrage of bullets pepper the doorway.   
  


"What is your problem with doors, trashbag?! I thought you said you'd only do that outside!" Flowey screeches, with a ring of pellets still hovering around him.   
  


"I thought something happened. You made it sound like a goddamn emergency!" He growls back.   
  


"It is!...sorta. Just watch this." He grumbles making the video on the television start over.   
  


_...the message that was initially published yesterday morning online has now gone viral. Though the authorities have removed the original upload, so many copies have been shared it’s been impossible to keep it from the public. In the video, fugitive Dahlia Horne makes a plea for monster equality, monster and human marriage rights and the exoneration falsely accused monsters. All this while promising her group's manifestations will remain peaceful. People and monster folk all over America and Europe have had a massive response and seem eager to use her as an example of the discrimination that plagues our fellow citizens to this day. We have Nathan Stilinski directly from New York with more details on the first monster equality march since-" _   
  


Flowey pauses the news video and turns to them, Sans' eyelights have disappeared and Frisk's looks like it's well on its way to do the same. Antoine and Celty have hard expressions but seem unsurprised. Frisk sits down, then turns to look at all of them slowly.   
  


"So...what does that mean?"   
  


"I think..." Flowey isn't sure he knows what to say.   
  


"It means the situation has changed." Antoine says, they turn to them, still numb with shock. "Officially the issue has changed hands. Her group is classified as a national threat now so it's not under the Guard's jurisdiction. For some reason she's not targeting the hosts anymore, or doesn't seem to be, at least."   
  


"She probably can't take any more souls. She's not a boss monster, absorbing all of them would probably kill her." Flowey grumbles.   
  


"We're not sure why, but as far as we know it does look like her attention has shifted. It means we're safe for now." Celty says, a smile evident on her voice.   
  


Frisk turns to Sans their face a contradictory mess of emotion, he carefully puts an arm around them and they fall limply against him. The guards step back and head to their rooms, leaving Flowey and the skeletons quietly taking in this tentative offer of peace. Sans holds Frisk close until they stop shaking, then he sits with them while they take out their handlink and look at the news themselves.    
  


It isn't hard to find the video, but it is hard to wrap their minds around the effect it has had. A march is being organized in New York already, people from all over the globe are taking notice, artwork is being made. Monsters and humans alike look up to Dahlia as a symbol of change. Like a promise for better days. The fact the investigation is inconclusive and the lack of evidence only serves to convince the public of her innocence. Though the charges against her keep piling up, the large majority believe she will be exonerated eventually, that the truth will always find a way. Frisk feels sick just thinking how wrong they are, but even more sickening it is to realize how easy to believe it all is. How sad that monsters are still discriminated against so often a story like this is actually believable.    
  


Could they bring themselves to undo all the good she is doing for these folk?    
  


Sans places a gentle hand over theirs, his other hand wipes their cheek as he gives them a steadying look and for a moment the depths of his eyes are blue. That familiar and tiny shard of blue that sometimes seems to bloom, like a rare glint of hope that things will get better. That glint is all they need. Frisk knows they can do this; because it is the right thing to do and all their friends are here with them; because just knowing they are not alone is enough.   
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell I need to update! I'm almost to chapter 60 but I haven't update the fic! Guess saving the chapters made me feel like I kept updating meanwhile I left everyone who's reading this hanging. I'm sorry for that but be assured the fic is reaching its end. I'm a mere five or four chaps away from ending it and i wanted to thank everyone who read or commented. You made me realize many of my mistakes as I learn to write and you've been a great part of this experience. 
> 
> Thank you for reading till the end and for being a part of this journey!


	54. Inconvenient Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans gets a surprise birthday party along with another kind of surprise...the delayed kind.

  
  
  
That evening after seeing the news Frisk cancels gaming with the guys to work on their journal instead. The dreams they've been having lately are strange and new, they've lost count of the last time one of them brought back any memories but this doesn't haunt them like it used to. Like their journal, this chapter of their life is on its last pages. From what they can see, in this new chapter there is little to no room for regrets and they wouldn’t have it any other way.   
  


"You finished it, huh?" Flowey makes his way to the desk, the drone's legs thudding softly on the wood.   
  


"Yeah, I'm gonna have to get a new one."   
  


"Hmm, how about a sketchbook, instead? I was looking at these the other day."   
  


They sit scrolling through the many models of sketch books and drawing tablets Flowey had looked up. Their soul, just as easily as their mind is entertained in sharing this quiet moment with a friend.   
  


"Frisk?"   
  


"Yeah?" They reply sleepily.   
  


"I have something to tell you..." Flowey pauses not sure what he can say at this point.   
  


"...and? What is it?"   
  


There's not really much to say when he doesn't fully know the answer yet. There’s no point in worrying them over what could be, not yet. So he says something else he was meaning to bring up instead.   
  


"Did you know that the trashbag-"   
  


"Sans."   
  


"Same difference, did you know his birthday is coming up?"   
  


"Seriously? Oh man...wait why didn't we do it last year?...oh." This was around the same time Bliz had been killed, when they  didn't know if they could trust Sans. They weren't celebrating much of anything back then.

"There wasn't any time.” Flowey says tactfully. “ But we have time now and I'm pretty sure we're getting help."  
  


Flowey brings up his contacts on his handlink, his leaf hovering over Papyrus' name. Frisk nods and they open a video call, even with a lowered volume the image on Papyrus' side still vibrates with his booming voice.   
  


"GREETINGS FLOWEY AND TINY SKELETON! I'm sure you couldn't wait to see me, so fear not! I will be arriving at your home in just a few days!"   
  


" _Really?!_ " Frisk whispers as if hoping to contain his volume.  
  


"Of course! What kind of brother would I be if I didn't even see my brother on his birthday?! Though I am sure you have already begun the preparations for the celebration I will kindly offer my expert advice! What is your plan of attack?"   
  


"Um..."   
  


"A surprise birthday party, pie and I got him some tools. What did you get him?" Flowey says tonelessly.   
  


"Only the most thoughtful of gifts of course! Myself! I will be the biggest surprise in the surprise party, Nyeh!" Papyrus' uniform tie flutters in an unexplained breeze as he poses.   
  


"I'm not sure what I'll get him yet but I want to make him the birthday pie. I heard him say he likes potato pie and I’m pretty sure Toriel can help me make some." Frisk adds.   
  


"Couch potato likes potato pie, makes sense." Flowey grumbles.   
  


"Tiny skeleton! You must practice your dating skills if you are ever to attain the level of awesomeness of the Great Papyrus. Such shoddy planning is no way to impress a potential partner!"    
  


"I wasn't trying to impress him, I just want him to be happy with it and we're not dating." they say amusedly.   
  


"Not yet dating?! Goodness, tiny skeleton you and my lazy brother need my help immediately!"   
  


What with explaining why they weren't dating Sans and planning his birthday, Frisk and Flowey stayed up very late. Papyrus' energy was contagious and it kept them going through the next morning when they woke early to resume their training. Antoine and Frisk sparred as usual only this time Flowey stayed mostly on the sidelines, cheering and dozing by turns.    
  


 

Later on Frisk prepared lunch for everyone before heading out to work. The owner of the flower shop, Maryam, was teaching Frisk how to transplant flowers today and they were very excited, for it was something they would be doing often in the coming months with their own blooms. She’d been teaching them how to keep the golden flowers alive in small planters until they were strong and big enough to have their own pots. Though the flowers need magic to survive, Maryam quickly figured out they could make do with monster fertilizer, so they would easily make great house plants for both monsters and human clients. Lately Frisk was making steady progress with their job as well as their schoolwork and they felt very accomplished for it.

 

When they came home that evening instead of gaming with their friends Frisk spent their free time planning Sans' surprise party. One would think a birthday party would be easier to hide than sneaking out for a safehouse, but Sans was making this very difficult. He kept popping into their room to ask if they want to watch a movie while they're making decorations, show up with ice cream while they talked to Toriel about the pie. Frisk was starting to think he suspects and is just teasing them but because Sans could be so sarcastic sometimes it was hard to tell.     
  


 

Still by the end of they week they’d managed to keep the secret. The minute the skeleton had arrived at work they’d gotten to work as well. The guards and Flowey dealt with the decoration and giftwrapping, Antoine had a clear advantage what with their spiky elbows and agile hands, while Celty could easily zoom over the ceiling taping all the paper cut outs and streamers. Flowey stuck to what he did best and bossed everybody around while taste-testing the pie. Long before Sans came Papyrus arrived and with his presence, and his voice,  filling the house it became harder to contain their excitement. The last step was to set up the handlink port for multiple call at the table and make sure the others would be aware of the time difference when logging in. In one way or another all of Sans’ friends and family would be there. 

 

  
Like always, right as the sun was setting Frisk felt his magic suddenly appear right beyond the door. they kept all the lights off and sat on the kitchen counter, playing with their handlink non-chalantly. 

 

“Hey there.” he grumbles, taking off his jacket and putting down his tools.

 

“Hey, stranger. How was work?” they walk over like they usually do to talk. 

 

“It was good, that dude didn’t think I could fix those old ass ports. Showed ‘im a thing or two. Where’s everyone?”

 

“They got tired of waiting for dinner, it's taking me a bit so Flowey has them upstairs playing Smashbros.” they say, matching his steps as he walks in further.

 

“Those poor bastards, they won’t know what hit ‘em. So what's cooking?”   
  


"I made you some pie." Is all they say before they both reach the dining room that’s completely dark.    
  


Sans frowns and for a second his left eye flickers with magic before Papyrus flicks the lights on with a shout.   
  
****

**“Surprise!”**   
  


The look on his face is priceless, slack jawed dumbfoundedness turns into confusion then a disbelieving smile. Frisk has to take his hand and pull him closer to the table to get him to keep him from standing there frozen on place. Papyrus' head is nearly covered by the dining room lamp, Flowey taps the drone's feet impatiently next to the presents on the table. Projections of Toriel, Alphys, Undyne, Mettaton, Sylvia and even Pete fill the room with noise before they break into a slightly off key version of the happy birthday song.   
  


Frisk leads him to his chair, patting his shoulder before scooting over to let Papyrus hug him as they sing. They smile wide at him, knowing that even through the confusion he really is happy. Sans' face lit in gold by the candles on his pie, the incredulous expression on his face when he tastes the sweet tomato glaze they put over it and the way he tries to hide a shy grin when they urge him to unwrap his presents is something Frisk doesn't ever want to forget.   
  


 

"I-thanks. I dunno what to say." Sand grumbles after opening his presents.    
  


He got tools from Flowey, home made ketchup from Frisk, his favorite comedy show from Pete, a book and a solar system model from Sylvia, a new handlink from Alphys and Undyne. Mettaton of course sent more clothes, the guards got him shoes and a wallet. Knowing him, Sans was most likely not going to shop for any more clothes for the next few years.   
  
  


"Now that the ceremonial birthday song has been sung and the other gifts opened it is time for my wondrous gift!" Papyrus announces.   
  


"Didn't you say you being here was gift?" Asked Flowey sarcastically.   
  


"Of course to bask in my presence is gift enough! Still, being the masterful gift giver that I am, I brought another gift! Though it's not as great as myself I’m sure it will be amazing!"    
  


"Where is it?" Frisk asks, looking at the mess of wrappers. They were pretty sure they'd remember putting it on the table.   
  


"Outside of course! Come with me brother! Leave the pie there, nobody is going to take it."    
  


Papyrus rushes Sans through one last bite and pulls him up, leading them all outside, Frisk brings their handlink so that the others can somewhat see what is happening. When they reach the backyard they see it, there by the back gate is Sans' motorcycle with a giant red bow on top. Even in the dark it gleams in shining chrome and black, only now it sports blue flames along the gas tank. They barely get to see Sans' reaction before he shortcuts right next to it, fluttering excitedly over all the new mechanical additions and how clean it is.   
  


"Now you may travel the countryside in style! Nyeh-heh!" Papyrus walks up to him and gives him a hearty pat on the back.    
  


"Yeah, hope that means you'll stop teleporting everywhere, for once..." Flowey grumbles.   
  


"Aren't you going to try it?" Antoine asks with a fanged smile.   
  


"Nah, I'll take my time with that tomorrow. Don't wanna scare any old people around here outta their skin." He smirks back, enjoying the way Papyrus tries not to flip out. Today is the only day of the year where the younger skeleton will not berate him for punning and Sans likes to push that as far as he can.    
  


"Good point. We have the TV set up if you want to watch something?" The guard asks.   
  


"Yeah, I do. Just lemme take the stink offa my bones." Sans gives them a big grin before disappearing without warning.   
  


"Confound it, Sans! Use the stairs!" Papyrus runs after him and the group slowly disperses.   
  


Frisk chats with Toriel, Alphys and Undyne while Mettaton keeps Papyrus busy; but eventually the calls end and it's just all the friends in the house, sitting on the couch to watch the comedy show Sans had just gotten.   
  


All through the evening Frisk glances at him, enjoying how hopeful the vivid blue in his chest makes them feel. It's glow keeps intensifying as the night wears on, Sans laughs until he cries, Papyrus holds back on berating him for punning until he cries too. They keep eating pie slices with ice cream and watching stand-up comedy until late. Frisk glad they could be a part of this, filling with joy at all the times he smiled and hoping more days like this would come.   
  
  


 

Immediately the next day, rather than spend time with Sans Frisk has to pick up where they left off in their studies. With the first set of their flower batches getting ready to sell and the date of the SAT's coming closer and closer, they couldn't afford to spend much time with friends. They didn't have the time nor the mindspace to notice Sans had been doing everything he could to get their attention.   
  


“So uh, when you take a break, you wanna take a ride on the bike?”   
  


“Sorry, I can't. I'm going to just gonna eat then take care of the flowers and go back at it. I want to make sure I got my formulas right.”   
  


“Algebra? Need some help?” 

 

“Nah, Stan already explained it. He’s really good at math for some reason. Gotta go, left you some dinner in the fridge!” They give him a quick one armed hug and head back into their room.

 

This continues until the SAT’s are done, they fret over the results for a bit but are so exhausted by the ordeal that when the results did arrive, they’d almost forgotten about it. Frisk passed of with some pretty good marks, history and English were their strong points, as was English, their math was at least passable. In the end they were happy and started the process of recovering from the stress by giving their somewhat estranged friends more of their time. 

 

 

After some calls to see what their friends had scored and a short celebration, Frisk decides to prepare a proper dinner for everyone, since they hadn’t used the kitchen at all the last two weeks. They set up the majority of the food then ask Antoine to keep an eye on the oven while they head upstairs. The insectoid is relaxing, watching television and folding clothes; it had been months since either guard last wore their uniforms and they were storing them away with the rest of the summer clothes, the sight made Frisk smile to themselves. Upstairs Sans' door is ajar so they knock, waiting for the gruff growl telling them it's okay to come in. When they open the door the first thing they see is his broad back as he hunches over his desk.   
  


They chuckle at the sight. Of course, now that they were finally free to hang out he was  busy.

 

"What are you working on?"   
  


"Huh? Oh, just re-wiring some handlink ports for this dude's house." He lifts the port in one hand to show them. "They're old but the guy doesn't want to buy a new set for no reason so I'm fixing ‘em up. Guess that guy from last week put a good work for me. The humans are starting to think I can fix all their old junk with magic."

 

“That’s cause you can.”

 

“Fixing stuff is one thing, what they want’s more like a miracle.” he grumbles.

 

“Then I’m pretty sure you’re their miracle-worker.”    
  


Sans chuckles and goes back to his work, holding the gutted out port in one hand and a thin welding tool on the other. Some cables and screws hang suspended before him, glowing deep purple and red. Frisk moves the extra chair across the room to settle beside him.   
  


"Can I watch?" They ask.   
  


"Yeah, sure."   
  


They sit there in a comfortable silence, fascinated by the the delicate way in which he slowly puts the entire device back together. The welding tool shines blinding white reflecting off Sans' dark safety glasses. Frisk stares, fidgeting with their coin like they sometimes do around the house.    
  


"Shit!" They hiss as the coin slips from their hands and clatters to the floor loudly.   
  


"Damn, watch that potty mouth, kid." Sans' hand glows and the coin sails softly through the air and back to Frisk's hand.   
  


"Look who's talking...thanks."   
  


"Yeah, yeah but I’m a lost cause, don’t go around picking up bad habits.” He flips up his glasses, letting them rest atop his skull and giving them a once over. “So, what's with the cash?"   
  


"It's...a keepsake." They say carefully, Sans turns the chair around to face them. "Bliz lent it to me on our last shift together...I didn't get to give it back."   
  


"Oh...What's that purple thing on it?" He asks awkwardly. Frisk laughs and he cringes.   
  


"Bliz spilled hot syrup on it. I never got burned by it but trust me when I say that sugar is really dangerous when it's hot. Like melt the flesh off your bones hot." They give a smile, but Sans knows that though the pun was meant for him, that smile wasn't. It was one filled with nostalgia and regrets.   
  


"I could make a keychain out of it, before the sugar wears off it." He asks gently.   
  


"Seriously?    
  


“Yeah, then ya can put it on yer necklace or somethin.”   
  


They smile and put a hand on the charm around their neck. “Thanks, but one gris gris is enough.”   
  


“I, uh, could make ya a bracelet. Got some wiring so you can pick out what ya like." He pulls out one of the drawers, filled with rolls of wiring coated in plastic.    
  


“I didn't know you could make jewelry.” they say amusedly, leaning over his shoulder.   
  


“It's a piece of wire with a ring and a clasp, gimme some credit here.”   
  


They laugh and start sorting through the wires, unsure what they are for and which one would look best.   
  


“Here, check this out." He picks up a plain looking wire with transparent coating, then his magic flares across his fingers. Dark purple and red crackle into the wiring that glows in the same color as a response.    
  


“Whoa, how does it do that?”   
  


“ ‘S magic wiring, for monster stuff. It glows like whatever magic is going through it. Usually we coat em dark so you can’t see the glow, this one’s see-through. ”    
  


“I want this one, definitely.” they grab it, eye shining bright as they send their magic through it and watch the wire turn gold.   
  


“Ya got it.” he says, putting everything away and making space for working on this.   
  


Sans takes the wiring from their hand, turning it a bruised red, but before he can pull away Frisk places their hand over his and puts magic through it. The wire glows brightly, purple braiding itself with the yellow across the length, the colors seem to dance together their light ebbing like a heartbeat.    
  


Sans pulls away quick, grumbling that he needs the wire, he uncoils and cuts a piece. Then he asks for their hand, measuring the wire to fit snugly around their thin wrist. After that he gets to work on the coin, putting a heavy laquer on it and setting it inside a small machine to dry. The machine whirrs softly while he starts making a clasp. He’s so focused Frisk’s gentle hand on his shoulder startles him.   
  


“Wait, can you make it so that it doesn't come off?”   
  


“Yeah I could. Are ya sure though?” he looks at them, knowing what the answer is going to be.   
  


“Pretty sure.”   
  


“Pretty sure doesn't sound that convincing.”   
  


“I'm completely sure, a hundred percent. I'm wouldn't want to take it off any way." They place a hand on Zunzee's gris gris pointedly. Sans sighs and nods in surrender, knowing better than to argue at this point.   
  


He takes out the coin and drills a small hole through the metal, putting a ring through it so they can thread it into the wire. He asks if they're sure one last time before finally clasping the two ends around their wrist and welding them. They bring it close to their face and flex their fingers, making magic flow out and making it glow. The now shiny coin flutters around with the energy as if repelled by a magnet, clinking against their bones softly, its beautiful. They put their hand down, suddenly pulling Sans into a hard hug.   
  


"Thank you." Frisk says, voice cracking.   
  


"Yer welcome." Sans murmurs, rubbing the side of his skull against theirs.   
  


Their arms tighten around him  and he feels his magic welling in his ribcage as if about to overflow. He cares so much for them he half expects it to hurt and is filled with a disarming relief when it doesn't. The fact their magic is thrumming warm against him isn't helping, he can almost feel their gratitude and joy like static on their bones. Still he doesn't want to let go, instead he has a powerful urge to hold them closer, so that he can see all of them and they can see all of him. He wants them so close he won't ever forget what it's like to be this way and...Oh...   
  
  
...Oh shit.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the start of the fluff before the angst. if you thought it got angsty before, oh boy you better strap in for this one! The fluff and romance are coming up and then the climax. Not the sexy kind, the plot kind. Stay tuned and thanks so much for reading this far!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read and hope to see you on the next chapter!
> 
> Artwork available on my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lohrhunter
> 
>    
> Please support the official release and creators (aka:Credits/Disclaimers)
> 
>  
> 
> The game Undertale was created by Toby Fox https://twitter.com/tobyfox
> 
> The idea of Underfell is a collective, more information here: http://undertaleau.tumblr.com/post/136434958909/underfell-au
> 
> The artwork and concept of Flowerfell was created by:  
> Siviosanei http://siviosanei.tumblr.com/ Snas https://underfart-snas.tumblr.com/
> 
> The fanfiction Overgrowth in which this is loosely based was written by:  
> Leviticus A. Winchester https://www.patreon.com/user?u=3058828


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